“And now these three remain: faith, hope and love. But the greatest of these is love.” 1 Corinthians 13:13

It’s important to believe in happily ever after. It helps. I don’t know if I’ll ever find that one person to spend happily ever after with, but just the hope it offers is really nice. The general consensus of the masses is that we should say “I love you” more… and there are endless examples of this everywhere we look… “Love makes the world go ‘round.” “All you need is love.” False and false. That mentality is bullshit. We should mean it more and say it less. Love has become an excuse and a loose interpretation for any number of things, at the very best.

Love is a get-out-of-jail-free card in our society. “But I love you…” And that is supposed to mean what? The definition of love varies so drastically from person to person. We give it so much power… to make or break days, months and decades, if we allow it. I sit in Starbucks and work on my computer… or read while I’m eating lunch… or write while I’m soaking up some vitamin D in the park… and I hear a socially predominate idea of love resonating so much more than any other… “… if he loved me, he would have put the clothes in the dryer,” “… if she loved me like she says, she would let me go out with my boys,” “… if he loved me, he wouldn’t have slept with her,” “… if she loved me, she would remember that I don’t like crunchy peanut butter.” I actually have heard every one of these and then some in the last few weeks, and every time, I cringe. So self-serving. Me, me, me. I’ll tell you what it means to love me. This is the definition we are told to conform to… Its easy, comfy and sexy.

I have been married and divorced twice in the last ten years. I am far from an expert, but I have chosen the wrong path more than once in my life and I do know a few things for sure. Love is not self-serving. Love is not romance novel material. It isn’t sexy or gentle or smooth. It is serious, intense and uncomfortable… and requires an individual to sacrifice and plow through virgin snow with vengeance and disregard. And you have to do these things and expect nothing. Shakespeare once said, “Expectation is the root of all heartache.” Part of love is not expecting and letting go when your brain and pride tell you the complete opposite. Sure, you don’t want to hurt, but loving means you definitely will at some point. Lovers, kids, grandmas… No kind of love is immune. Heartache is part of love, and ultimately makes it stronger and more stable. We are taught to avoid heartache and despair at all costs. If you love, these things will find you. But, trust me, its not as awful as you’ve been lead to believe and not all bad, either. Alice Walker once said, “Nobody is as powerful as we make them out to be,” and that is real talk, my friends. But you are never more powerful and confident than after you’ve conquered a huge storm in your life, even if you crawled all the way through it while sobbing hysterically. You made it through, and it makes you more powerful and better armed to fight another day. And how much more do you have to offer those you love after fighting hard and coming out on top and stronger than ever? So heartache and despair really aren’t the enemy in love. In fact, we need them to chisel us into a more complete person.

Love is hard and intense and really very exhausting sometimes. Please remember, though, that hard and intense and exhausting aren’t necessarily negative. I have been told I love very hard, and I do. I take that as a compliment. If I love you, I will walk through hell for you. I really will, and I will have a smile and a hug for you when we both make it out. I do not expect that from anyone else. Most people aren’t capable of it, and that’s very important to accept. I can take a lot of hits in many different ways, and I don’t mind doing it if it helps the ones I love. Everyone has their strengths.

Loving hard means I don’t say “I love you” lightly. It’s awkward when someone says it and you don’t say it back… and that’s been me a lot over the years. However, I’ve never said it and wanted to take it back. Relationships fail as time persists, whether they be friendships, family or romantic in nature, but fault seldom has anything to do with love. We are all human, and that tends to get in the way. Obviously, none of my romantic endeavors have withstood the test of time, but I don’t regret a single one of them. Regret is a waste. I’ve learned from each of them and chosen differently according to what I’ve learned. I’m discovering more about myself, others and the world around me daily. My wise friend, Yvonne, periodically reminds me that it is a process, not an event. I appreciate that more than I can ever express. I forget that, and I push… rush things… try to conclude an event when the process continues to rock along, whether or not I prefer it that way. Take potty-training a two-year-old boy with a very strong personality and a very charming smile, for example… Process, not an event, Chass. Take a breath. We are all human.

But, being human is okay and beautiful. Every single member of my family is very human, has unmistakable, obvious faults and every single one of them is immeasurably beautiful. I learned what love means from my family. It sounds cliche, but its true. I was and continue to be taught to love hard and completely and every chance I get. My cousin, Katy, remembers every birthday, anniversary and holiday. She makes every single one of us feel special with her kindness and consideration, and she does it without expecting anything. She’s a busy mom of two and a devoted wife, but she takes time out of her world to bless ours, and that is lovely and beautiful. I remember birthdays days in advance, then I forget, then I remember again in the shower the day of… I’m just not that good. My grandmother used to peel the strings out of my celery. Seriously, she would peel every single string out of the celery because my whiny ass didn’t like chewing it. And occasionally I would get mad for some crazy, unsustainable nine-year-old reason and scream at her and tell her I hated her and she would grab me, hug me tight and tell me it would really hurt her feelings if she thought I meant that but she knew I didn’t. Then she’d ask me what I wanted for dinner. Love. No expectations. Hard. Thankless. Life-saving. Life-giving. So beautiful.

That’s how my kids love and that’s how God loves. It isn’t a coincidence. We try other ways and explain it in language and deeds that are easily digested and fit best in our busy, frivolous lives and into this brutal world… but the truth remains. The greatest of these is still love… we just have to suck it up and love like we are made for it, because really, we are.

.My grandmother had a huge pot of potato soup waiting for me the day after I had my wisdom teeth removed. On the way to her house, I told Carlo, “Damn, the only thing I can imagine eating is my grandma’s potato soup.” And, poof, there it was.

New Year’s card from January 2000… She wasn’t impressed with my choice in men or lifestyle in general at the time. This one has a little zing on it but its important.

… from Hannah, February 1995