Love Work

So, a few posts ago, I told the truth about myself.  Maybe I’ll tell more later.  Right now, I want to share some things with you that I haven’t shared with many people.  Love is tough.  Now, for those of you who are single, and looking for your soul mate, for those of you who are living in that fantasy world where the prince rides up on the white horse and rescues the princess, and for those still, who dream of the perfect job, the perfect life, the perfect family… I’m going to issue the spoiler alert now.  Those are “perfect” things are all imaginary.  They do not exist.  Perfection, like control is an illusion.  There was only one perfect being on this Earth, ever, and He is long gone from it.  There is only one way to be perfect, and that is to not be human.  And so there it is.

Now for the real post…

This post isn’t about the flowers and serenade kind of love.  This post is about the snotty nose, profanity spewing, second guessing, scary, honest conversation having kind of love.  This post is about the kind of love you never know exists until you are in it up to your armpits, and you’re covered in sweat.  That’s how awesome and tough this love is.

So let me set the scene about this tough, armpit sweaty love…

People are people.  No two are the same.  Not even identical twins.  Every human being comes to this world in a different way, and lives, breathes, and moves in different space.  They experience things in different ways, and they process those experiences uniquely.  If you can understand this, your Love Work is five percent done.  Then, if you can appreciate all those unique persons with different experiences, styles, opinions, behaviors, and whiles, your Love Work is ten percent done.  If you can be in the same room with all these different kinds of people without expressing disdain or complaining about one of these people because they are different from you, then your Love Work is fifteen percent done.  And if you can actually care about all of those people, regardless of what they can do for you, regardless of their life experience, and how they treat you, and what their perception of the world is, then your Love Work is twenty percent done.  If you can help, with genuine compassion, just one of those people, without expecting anything in return, then your Love Work is twenty five percent done.

Now… Love Work is never really done.  What does it take to get to the full 100 percent?  Well that’s where the sweat and snot comes in….

Imagine a world where everything you say is wrong.  Imagine that you are so busy trying to do so much for so many in your community that you barely clock in five hours of sleep a night, or that you do things beyond what you should physically push your body to do.  Imagine that the choices you make are judged by others, because they do not understand you, they do not have your vision or understand your motives.  Imagine that you try to make people understand, but that you are so exhausted because of all the other stuff you are doing, that you can’t get the words to come out right, so they just continue to misunderstand you.  Imagine that the people you are trying to help, the work you are trying to do for them is unappreciated, because the ability to appreciate hasn’t yet been developed.  Because that’s another thing you’re working on.  Imagine that the people you’re trying to work with can’t read or write, because that’s another job you have, that you try to get to each day, but when you’re ready (on time, as scheduled), they’re not ready.  Something prevents them from being ready.  Their home life, their circumstances, their perception, their unmet needs, their brain, their body, their attitude, your attitude, someone else’s attitude.  And since they’re not ready, guess what, you’re being judged again, because you can’t “make” them be ready.  Imagine that no matter what you say to the “judges”, they do not see what you see, they do not understand what you understand, they do not know what you know, and to top it all off, they are afraid of the things they do not know, the methods they have not yet discovered, and the unknown.  And they are vocal.  And you are struggling to catch your breath, and so are they, and so are the people you are trying to help.  You’re sweaty, up to your armpits in loving all of them in all their ways, and doing for them in all the ways you can.  From little day brighteners to nighttime prayers.  You’re trying.  They’re trying.  Everyone’s just doing their best to survive in this armpit sweaty world.  This is Love Work.

Imagine that you wake up one day, and your child doesn’t want you to brush their teeth.  It hurts them.  They scream in pain.  Imagine that your child only wants you to put on their coat and zip it.  They only want you to read them a bedtime story, and they are very vocal about it when it’s “daddy’s turn”.  Imagine a simple boy’s haircut.  A buzz cut, which is quick and painless, right?  Not now.  Today, your child suddenly screams in pain, grabs his head and can no longer control his breathing, because he is so upset.  The buzzing of the clippers is freaking him out.  The feel of the vibration against his head is scary.  The hair that is falling from the top of his newly shorn head is going into his mouth, and he’s crying, so it’s sticking to his tears and snot too. And he’s screaming out to stop it right now, but you can’t because you only have a third of his head shaved.  And so, you cancel the plans to shave his head and opt for a mohawk instead.  Imagine that you tell your child that you are going to do something, and then plans change.  Your child finds out and now he is crying, tears rolling down his face, he can’t grasp why this has happened.  You are unable to explain it to him.  Imagine that there are fifty kids standing around you while this interaction takes place, and all are staring at him and you.  And he turns to them, pointing a finger screaming, “Don’t look at me!”, and yet they keep on staring.  Some are in shock, that a child could be acting this way about something so “simple” as a change of plans.  Some are looking disgusted.  After all, your child has snot running down his face, mixing with those tears.  And all you want to do is scoop your “baby” up, and comfort him, but he stiffens, and screams, “Don’t touch me!”  And now, adults are starting to gather, whispering, shaking their heads in pity, or disapproval.  You are crouched down, trying to look in your child’s eye, telling him it will be okay, when suddenly, he punches you, square in the face.  Gasps from the crowd tell you how bad it was, and you jerk back from the blow.  And now, you’ve got a bloody nose.  You tell your “fans” that you really could use some help, and if someone could get some Kleenex, it would be great, and in a very timid and unsure voice, you say, “Would the rest of you mind taking off?  Because we really need our space.”  And they murmur as they saunter off into the distance, leaving your chaotic world to bask in their perfect palaces.  You look back down, and now your child is flailing, arms and legs, he’s rolling around on the floor, not yet in a full blown tantrum, but teetering on the edge.  You scoop him up, forgetting the person you sent off for the Kleenex, and you carry your child, screaming, kicking, biting, red faced and punching off to the car.  You open the door with a pinkie finger, and in one slick move, you set him in his seat and thank the Good Lord for seat belts. And then you take a breath.  But he doesn’t.  He continues to wail and scream and cry.  He cusses and calls out for his daddy, and makes all kinds of statements and threats about how he is going to take you to jail and he is going to not be your best friend anymore.  In thirty minutes, this will all be over, and your precious angel is going to be rocking in your arms again.  But right now, this is the sweaty, stinky, snotty kind of situation that is love.  This is your one true gift to the world… loving another human being when they are the most out of control they have ever been in their life.  When the sweet angelic face of your baby has twisted and morphed into some sort of angry little badger, ready to tear your arm off if you get too close, and you are not sure it’s safe, but you go in anyway, to comfort, to care, to listen.  When some people would tell you a good spanking would take care of all this messy behavior, and “that child” just needs a good butt whoopin’, but you choose to breathe, to think, and to teach, this is Love Work.

And when you get home, your quiet “normal” child sits and waits for you to remove your child from his seat belt.  He’s exhausted, drained, and spent.  He has nothing left, and so you carry him into the house, and set him on the sofa.  He sighs deeply and closes his eyes.  And you go back for “normal”, and she tells you how much she loves you and her brother, and how she is going to try to make a bracelet just for him, so he will feel special.  That is dirty, sweaty, stinky, blown out ear drums, no reward for being the “normal” kid Love Work.

And you have to cook supper, and get the laundry going and the dishes done, and you still have to somehow romance your husband.  Because he’s the reason you have these two beautiful miracle children, and you want him to know you love and appreciate him.  But he’s tired and had a rough day, and he wants nothing more than to sit in his recliner and zone out to some “manly” show, and ignore the rest of the world.  “Normal” kid jumps up in his lap and makes her bracelet. Supper is on and the laundry is going.  The dishes are soaking, and so we go to the table, and guess who doesn’t want to eat spaghetti tonight?  You guessed it.  And so, he refuses to eat, and dad engages him, telling him that he must eat spaghetti, or he will be hungry.  Because tonight, mommy doesn’t have the energy to cook another meal, just for him.  And even though it’s late, and you’re tired, you still have to do the dishes and fold the laundry.  And bathe the kids and read them a bedtime story.  And you can’t just go up and put them in bed and pick any old book.  There is a specific way they like to have their blankets spread, and there’s a specific book that we must read, for the one hundredth time.  And we secretly wish that these kids would take an interest in any of the other million books on the shelf, so that we could try new words and learn new things… but they won’t so we sound out each syllable in the same character voice that we have every night before.  That’s the cuddle up kind of Love Work.

And we go to the bathroom, and for the first time since the first cup of coffee this morning, we are alone.  Enjoying that solitude of a shower, when all the world is quiet, and nothing can hurt us or scare us or drive us crazy.  An eerie kind of calm, when we know that the world is lurking just outside our door, and when the shower is over, we look outside the curtain, and see eyes peering back at us.  The dog reminds us that he needs to go out one last time.  And then, we settle down to do “our time”… whatever that is.  Pleasure reading, blogging, television watching, listening to music, playing a game on our tablets, texting a friend or eating that forbidden bowl of ice cream.  Whatever that thing is, it is Love Work.  The kind that we need to refuel, recharge, remember that we are all a part of the world, even when we withdraw from it for a while.

You see, throughout life, everyone is working, some people are working at jobs in other locations.  Some people are working at home.  Some people are working to stay alive, to breathe, to battle cancer, to survive abuse.  Some people are working to live, to earn a living to pay for the basic necessities of a decent life.  Some people are working to learn to read, learn math concepts, to articulate themselves.  Some people are working to earn a degree, some are working to earn a promotion.  Some people are working to learn how to use the toilet, say a sentence politely, and even walk.  Some are working to put the past behind them, some are working to control their behaviors.  Some people are working to figure out how to please their spouse, or their boss.  Everyone is working at something.  And each person’s work, even if they struggle, is Love Work.  And Love Work is difficult.  It’s stinky, sweaty, snotty work.  But Love Work is worth every single tear, every ounce of sweat, every yucky kleenex full of snot.  Because Love Work is what connects us.