Tell me a story of love that grows like an apple tree; and anyone can stop to rest in its shade or relieve the gnaw of despair with its fruit; and there are no illusions that it’s pristine & pretty because everyone knows apple trees are gnarled with tight, knobby branches and rough bark; and no one believes that “pretty” is the point anyway, so no one is deterred or discouraged or distracted by a perfect row of tulips.
Tell me a story of love that pours like a summer rainstorm; and no one runs for shelter or says gloomily “When will it stop?” or hunkers under an umbrella or glares when they’re splashed; and the common experience of being absolutely drenched & deluged by love makes everyone a little kinder, a little more playful; and everyone realizes as they skip through puddles that the rainbow isn’t love’s beginning but its fulfillment.
Tell me a story of love that trembles like an earthquake; and no one is safe from its impact and everyone is at risk of losing their hearts’ walls in the rubble; and the foundations of self-interest are no match for the wild strength of love; and the measure of it looks like a jumping needle or a pounding heart or a quiet spirit; and no one ever really gets used to the unexpected ways that it shifts your worldview in the flash of a moment.
If you know that story, would you live it aloud so that others might know it too? I’ve been looking for a little inspiration…
on 1 John 4:12