Love, as defined by a four year-old

"'When someone loves you, the way they say your name is different. You just know that your name is safe in their mouth.' Billy - age 4"

Last weekend, I went to my first hospice volunteer orientation (another is to come this Saturday). Among the many other things that were discussed, one of their resident chaplains read aloud a list (which I found here) of the various, respective ways that various children defined love. The above quotation struck me more than any of the others, resounding in me for a while..

Perhaps this child had a different message to convey in mind when he said the above, but to me the first thing that came to mind was how I have no honor left to be found in the people I have loved's mouths. I cannot blame them-- the blame is all mine, no matter if they did wrong or not-- but I so wish that they had something to remember me for (and speak of, and love) than spite, hatred, and passive-agression. I broke all love they had for me, and now they proclaim it to the nations: Look! I have struck again in sly evil, yet my prey is not defeated!

The lack of love you hold for me shows. I know I cannot fall into your (or your people's) good graces. You remember me with disdain and so you speak of me with disdain.

My sins are many and well repeated; my love is buried. You love me not. You love me not. Never have you loved me. I am without advocate in this world, for I have done nothing to garner either the pity, respect, or admiration that causes one to uphold a name.

I remember you all.. The good and bad. If it's the least I can do, your name is safe with me. What's love if I cannot do that?

Oh, Sylvia.

Oh, Sylvia Plath, my distraught, beautiful, intelligent, and foolish idol. You who killed yourself. You who reminds me precisely of the part of me that threatens my own doom. You once wrote in your journal that you loved too much or not at all, and I am much the same. Either I have little interest- none sufficient to satisfy the desire of whomever finds interest in me- or I am enraptured and obsessed beyond what I dare admit to anyone. 

Sylvia, are you and I as alike as it seems we might have been? Tell me, did you know the mysterious, rare feeling that tells you (as the most trusted clear indicator) when you meet one whom you could love, if a relationship were to form? If so, my friend, how often did it come around for you? And to what result?

We are women: to feel what I feel is foolish, for only by the grace of God are two united who have the potential to love each other equally. And I, being a woman, can do nothing to gauge this or probe it, to do so would be folly.. I must only wait.. And prolong the silent joy of being INTERESTED in a fellow mortal and the constant fear of making a fool of my intuition and desires..

It's What I Must Do

Crying is not the only indicator-
Arrogance, apathy, and deception are, too
Raw and hurting, we are all
Ever wondering quite what is wrong.

Before, blinded by my own hurt, I was unable to help any with their own hurt, and, as it hurts to see hurt in others but not help, I desensitized myself and tried to see only the callous, hard, often-cruel outside of everyone. Rock-hard shells need no sympathy, after all.

Now, I am forever delving beyond the stony fronts that those around me have erected about themselves. I can forgive anything, these days, because I know that somewhere inside each person that wrongs me or another is a scared, hurt, and raw soul. If I seek that- and it always shows, if only a little- and I cannot help but feel pain for them.

And how great a number of "them" there are! My heartbreaks each day as I watch people make destructive decisions over and over, as I sit and watch-unable to offer any help but friendship and an open heart forever accumulating pain to be converted to love by God. Love, poured out on those who accept it and those who do not. Love, to hopefully, one day, carve (as a waterfall does) a rut through the rock of their hurt and fill them with a love greater than I can offer alone.

With age comes responsibilities..

A silly young thing still I am,
Growing in being every day
Elders know the task I face: keeping others safe.

On this day (June 6, 2009) I headed to the local Department of Motor Vehicles and took the test to become one holding a class E learner's permit. I took said test and passed said test. Now, there's a little piece of plastic authorizing me to drive- with someone an adult over 21 in the front seat, granted- on roads.

To be truthful, I am terrified.

But that is not all I wish to talk of.

With age, I know already, comes the opportunity to begin to lay the foundations for an excellent future. This requires taking up- and keeping- many responsibilities, both common and not.

Age has pushed me, now, to become something or remain nothing. I chose writing- how could I not, it is my heart's calling- to break through my childishness. I now write for two school newspapers (my public high school's and Florida Virtual School's), this blog, and YouthNoise, where I applied to be- and was chosen to be- the "Featured" environment blogger. At home, I do the dishes daily and with less prodding. I have begun to consistently practice the oboe, pray, and read the bible. I plan to workout via rollerblading or DDR three times a week in the coming months.

That may not sound like too much to adults, I am sure. But to me- I could never commit to anything. Which reminds me- age- or should I say, maturity- leads to commitment. I flutter less than I used to; I am growing tired of fluttering, and I despise when I do. I no longer flutter, I have decided to expand- my circle of friends, my love, my skills.

Age.

I'm so young.

But I don't think my life has to be typical. I can pull this all together, God willing and helping.

Today, we met again

Painful, more so than before;
Are you aware- do you know- what I really feel?
So long we've been gone,
Today I heard your beautiful voice, and you heard my own; yet, we still haven't met.

My life is full of anti-climaxes. I suppose that correlates with the fact that until recently, my life was full of un-encountered feelings and un-addressed grievances, both from me and whoever dared to entangle themselves with me- the ugly, invasive vine that sapped the life out of my hosts.

Disappointment plagues me each time I face each high point just to be gently dropped down before anything life-altering happens.. Disappointment plagues me now, for today I began the long process of loving someone who doesn't know they need love; I have set off to love someone who will not hold communication with me. I have set off to, most devastatingly of all, love someone who I already love- someone I have already lost, someone who is a frequent, though not constant, visitor within my mind, though rarely do I visit his!

Eighty days, I have, until he returns. Eighty days. Lord, protect me and preserve me, for eighty days is far too long.