Love is

Love is a labor. It's sleeves rolled up, hands down in the dirt, scraped knees, sweat drenched t-shirt, weary head on pillow kind of labor. Love is an effort. It's an all-in, one hundred percent, never giving up and never backing down effort. Love is a sacrifice. It's a cross bearing your pride, a grave holding your vanity, a burial of self. It's many precious seeds planted, with careful watering, that bloom into even more beautiful flowers. Love is a journey with many different seasons. It's the bone-chilling, frost-ridden winter, when the darkness seems to last just a little longer than the light. But it never does. Light always comes. The sun always rises, with just enough warmth to get by. Love is that light— the dawn. It's the relief of springtime, the breath of fresh air, the hope of renewal and new life and sunlight's eager return. It's the heartbeat of summer, the crash of waves, the sweet and salty smell of earth and warm skin. It's the rosy cheeks and long nights and that feeling of being wholly and truly alive, with every fiber of your being on fire and alert and never wanting to let go of the brightness. And love is autumn. Fall leaves dancing onto sidewalks, leaving little reminders of all that the earth has endured that year, all that you, too, have endured. What once was in full bloom has now been shed to make room for more. Love is layers upon layers— hours, days, weeks, months, years— of commitment, endurance, loyalty, and trust. It's bonfires and marshmallows and reminiscing on all that summer brought to you, taught you, shaped you into; it's laughter, lots of laughter, and looking towards winter with a brave face and warm heart, hands clasped, ready for another season. Ready for another layer, another year, another cold winter, spring blossom, summer celebration, autumn lull. Love endures all seasons, all hardships, all things. Love is a risk. Love is an action. Love is a promise. 

Love is a gift that equally blesses both the giver and the receiver. Love says yes even when no is easier. Love says keep going when there's nothing you can see ahead. Love says "together, we can" while life feels out of control. Love turns selfish into selfless, hopeless into hopeful, and dust into life. It turns winter into spring, spring into summer, summer into fall. It turns labor into fruit, effort into reward, sacrifice into blessing. 

Love is the most beautiful paradox. It is both the most vulnerable you will ever be yet also the most known you will ever feel. It is the most difficult challenge you will ever face with the most breathtaking view you have ever seen or could ever dream of. It is meaning. It is purpose. Love is life.

And when you experience love, true love, you will believe in it. You will fight for it. You will labor endlessly, give all your heartfelt effort, sacrifice all you have. When you have felt the kiss of the Creator, you will be changed. And then when you fall in love, within the confines of humanity, you will taste heaven on earth. But because you've felt that kiss, love's one true kiss, you will know that's it's only a taste. And together, you will long for, live for, and invite others to join you for more. 

Love is life. 

He feels like home. Everything about him feels like home. Being in his arms makes me feel like a million Sunday afternoon naps, stretched out over the course of many years, curled up on a couch we picked out together and some sort of sports game on (way too loud) and him causing me to jolt awake every time a bad call is made and he jumps up as if to attack the referee. Being in the passenger seat beside him with my hand in his makes me feel like a million Saturday nights, stretched out over the course of many years, driving with the windows down on a breezy, calm, small town night after we've just eaten dinner together and laughed at the names of items on the menu and I tip although he paid the bill (like always, because he's a gentleman, but he also never carries cash). Being with him feels like being with the other part of me... the piece I wasn't missing but could never be the same without. And, finally, being with him feels like hands lifted high, bass drum beating loudly and consistently, matching my heartbeat, singing praises to the God of real love. God, our true love, who gave us each other, to love and to cherish, forever. 

Being with Brady feels like home. 

Sometime after April 7th, 2015

 I had dinner with my mom and one of my (three, not including step siblings) younger brothers, Joshua. Most people call him Josh but I refuse to call him that because I used to hear my mother rant about how his name was Joshua for a reason (likely the whole Jericho thing) and she hated 'Josh'. But now everyone calls him Josh–– even my mom. Everyone except me. I still like Joshua. It sounds strong and confident (also likely because of the whole Jericho thing). In all seriousness, though, Joshua was an incredibly cool character in the Bible. I'd name my kid after him too. My boyfriend, Brady, came to dinner with us too.

Of course the main topic was my father. He's always the main topic among any family discussions minus the ones that he starts. He would never talk about himself that much, mostly because he's too prideful to ever sound prideful.

I don't really have time right now to get into my father and all the complexities that come along with him, because yet again, I'm up past my "bedtime". I don't really have a bedtime, but I like to say that I do so that maybe one day I'll believe myself and actually get some freaking rest.

Just know that my dad hasn't talked to me since Christmas day, ending with a terrible goodbye. It didn't really start off that great either. It was very awkward and I felt totally out of place in the very home I grew up in. Thankfully, my boyfriend and his family turned Christmas around for me. They always seem to bring it back to center for me. I'm really, really thankful for that. I just wish my family could come around. Specifically my dad. Maybe he won't ever come around though, and maybe (more than likely), he's thinking the same thing about me. And maybe we'll just have to learn to love each other anyway.

If that can't make me tired, I don't know if anything can.

I'm really glad I got to have dinner with the three of them tonight. It made me smile. I think Brady was a little annoyed that the subject seemed to constantly revolve around my dad and his shortcomings, which I can't say I blame him for, but I'm still thankful he came and was by my side. I love that he is by my side.

Goodnight.

I should be going to sleep now. Or if I'm not going to go to sleep, even knowing that tomorrow I will, once again, totally loathe myself for not going to sleep at a decent and adult-like time, then I should be doing my schoolwork for this upcoming Chiropractic Assistant exam I'm going to have to take. Not that I really want to be a Chiropractic Assistant. Not that I don't want to be one... for now. 

Anyway, I really should be going to sleep now. I just wanted to create this blog before I let my emotionally unaware side (not that I have one of those, because I definitely don't) talk me out of creating this blog. I need this blog. It'll be good for me. I have too many thoughts and not enough time in the day to think them, which is exactly why I'm still awake right now. Case in point. 

So there, I made it. And this is my first post. Nothing fancy or eloquent, which is exactly how I intended it, because there's nothing fancy or eloquent about my thought process, and frankly, I don't think there's anything fancy or eloquent about anyone's thought process. Other than C.S. Lewis. And all those used in the making of the Bible. 

I really am going to sleep now. Goodnight, self? World? Whatever. Goodnight anyone and everyone who ever happens to read this, which could possibly be no one. Other than me.