Love so amazing, so divine, demands my soul, my life, my all.
I’ve said yes to Chris, given him my life, sometimes my all. But I still cling to the innermost parts. The deep tangled emotions I don’t think he wants to handle.
I realize those first refrains are written about Christ. Perfect love.
But, the hopeless romantic in me keeps yearning and hoping and striving towards one of the great earthly loves. “Can’t eat, can’t sleep, reach for the stars, world series kind of stuff.”
And yes, for some Jesus is their bridegroom. Their beginning and end is in Christ and it is right and holy, and they are stronger and probably more at peace and satisfied than me.
But my soul was called to matrimony, to love a man deeply and fiercely and imperfectly here on earth, and I want a world series kind of love. Which means I need to put in the hours of training, and learning new skill sets, and slowing down, and work.
It doesn’t just happen. It’s not the stars aligning and two perfect souls joining, at least not for us.
It’s work and it’s a choice to keep working. To being a team, even if it’s a losing team where you both get no rest and are apparently raising vampire children of the night, still a team.
We bring different things, but we must bring our all, our life, our soul, all our deeply messed up parts.
Love is complicated and always imperfect when you aren’t Christ, but we have a model. And we have forgiveness. And we have a choice.