all for love

On my desk at work I have a little book of prayers, and I choose one to start each day. Usually, the selection is random, but occasionally I look for just the right one to set the tone for the day. Today was a random day, and the prayer was based on Paul's first letter to the Corinthians; the one that begins "Love is patient, love is kind." My minute meditation was also about love, and how loving others genuinely is the only way to true happiness. As I pondered the coincidence, I again saw, in my mind's eye, this morning's sunrise reflected in the river as we crossed the bridge. After a week of heartache tempered by the closeness of our family, this particular message of love was not a surprise, but a welcome shift in mentality. With the love, I felt uplifted, joyful, lighthearted.

Then when I got home, I saw this, and knew I had a blog topic:

Found on "The Marriage Bed" (and slightly edited)...

"Why" something did or did not happen is usually far more important than "What" did or did not happen... but the "What" can be very noisy. Work to get to "Why" if you want change.

I once told this to a newspaper reporter... that the day she learned to ask Why, rather than What, would be the day she became a journalist. Five years later, and she's still writing What stories and has not moved up in her organization. (Soul Mate Marriages)

There was a day, not too long ago, when I could have let the noise of what get in the way of real and true love. But I made a decision to not only ask why, but to listen to the answer. Interestingly, the more the why, in my case, was determined, the less it mattered with regard to the what. The more I listened to the why, the more the person attached to the why mattered to me. It turns out, the what noise not only blocks out the voice of reason, it also serves as a smoke screen. Visual noise.

Today, love touched a chord, and I know Dad had something to do with it. I've been thinking about the last 8 days, and wondering what the 9th day was. Some of that week I remember, but not all of it. I don't really remember coming back home, for example, but I do, very clearly remember the swim meet that weekend. It was crowded--as in fire-hazard crowded--and I was in no mood to talk to anyone, whether I knew them or not, so I had my earbuds in, and tried to blend in to the wall. I only wanted to see our son swim, and planned to scooch in when he was on deck.

That day I heard a woman complain because her mother wanted to see her child swim. Thinking the idea preposterous, she proceeded, loudly (obviously, since I had music in my ears), to berate everything about her, from the clothes she wears to the fact that she wanted to be involved in her grandchild's life. Disgusted and unable to speak to this stranger, I turned up the volume on my iPod, and cried, remembering the time Mom and Dad happened to be in town for one of the big meets, and drove 20 minutes there, arriving just in time to see the race--which probably only lasted a minute and a half--then drove right back to our house to help with a toddler.

I did push my way forward to see Henry swim that day, and as he climbed up on the block, I was hearing him say to me that he was swimming his races at this meet for Grampa. Determined not to cry so I'd be able to see, I was awe-struck when he crossed himself, then pointed and looked heavenward. That race, and every one since, he has dedicated to his grampa. While tears stung my eyes, I managed to keep them from blurring my vision, and watched as he swam his personal best. All for love.

When I decided to listen to the why and not the what, I had prayed for guidance. I had also asked Dad to tell me what I should do. When my heart calmed, and my mind cleared, and my vision brightened, I knew that I was getting an answer from many directions: God, Dad, Mary, they all were leading me to the importance of why, and the relative unimportance of what. And it has made all the difference.

Love never fails.