It doesn’t look the way I would have thought. It isn’t wrapped in a box, a lovely shade of robin egg blue, and tied with a luxurious white satin ribbon. It isn’t always patient or kind, and sometimes it fails. It shouldn’t maybe, but every so often it does fall short.
Real love is the kind of love that tells you that you are falling short, not in an angry sort of way but it divulges feelings honestly so that the other person, can picked kthemselves up again. This time it was me that failed. Nothing huge or earth shattering but several instances of not being a loving spouse, specifically being available to listen and offer support with time and open ears.
I have been selfish lately and I long to write and there never seems to be enough time. Amos is in school now but there is so much to do that often my evenings are happiest spent curled up in my own thoughts. There is no fault in this, though I am married and real love demands connection. I have been disconnected and so, I shall try harder to manage my time and remember that in wisdom, there is moderation.
Real love is the type of love that speaks up, shares honest feelings, and says I love you before leaving for the day. Real love smiles that evening and accepts your apology, even offering genuine kindness in response to sincerity. Real love buys a toilet paper hanger without being asked and places it in the bathroom. Real love doesn’t need you to notice this kindness because real love is real and remembers to be unconditional. Real love likes being acknowledged though and I’m thankful for that truth.