We are each other’s
we are each other’s
we are each other’s
magnitude and bond.
We are each other’s
we are each other’s
we are each other’s
magnitude and bond.
Real love dares you to the really dangerous: die in the diminutive. Be broken and given in the small, the moments so small no one may applaud at all. Pour out your life in laundry room and over toilets and tubs, and pour out life on the back streets, in the back of the room, back behind the big lights. Pour out your life in the small moments–because its only these moments that add up to the monumental. The only way to live a truly remarkable life is not to get everyone to notice you, but to leave noticeable marks everywhere you go. The best love could be a broken, boring love–letting your heart be bore into by another heart, one small act of love at a time. –Ann Voskamp, The Broken Way
Love each other with a warm love
that comes from the heart.
1 Peter 1:22, NET
Can you imagine the amazing place this world would be if every one of us practiced this one simple principle and respected each other’s humanity and right to exist?
About the image: The postcard was sent to me by Karen F (Michigan on swap-bot) for a scripture postcard swap.
My hubby and I have been married for 25 years today! I’m asking “where did the time go?” like I did a week ago when my son turned 13.
People have many ideas about marriage and a whole lot to say about how we should do this or that to make a marriage “successful.” I’m certainly no marriage specialist, but I’m back with another random list of nuggets picked up in the 25 years my hubby and I have been married. Each item could easily be its own blog post, but I’d rather spare you a 25-part, month-long series on marriage. 😀
Marriage is work, but it’s good work–the kind that expands and firms up your soul.
My hubby is brilliant, funny, gifted, compassionate, committed, and so many other wonderful things. We determined before marriage that heaven is one common goal we will not compromise. I can’t imagine navigating the madness of life without him and I’m grateful for our continuing march into the “ever after” together.
“Love” is likely the most difficult word to define. We talk about what it means, but definitions fail to hit the mark. Since it finds meaning in action and in character, we describe love more than we define it.
“Love means” was the final prompt for Love Notes 27. Peggy, again, did not disappoint as she shared a poem which demonstrates the evolving meaning(s) of love as she travels the decades.
By Peggy L.
At the age of 10
Love means my mama’s smile and a hug.
At the age of 20
Love means bodies tangled in the sheets.
At the age of 30
Love means walking my sweet daughter to class before heading to work.
At the age of 40
Love means letting my baby find her own life, away from me.
At the age of 50
Love means discovering myself and learning to paint.
At the age of 60
I’ll let you know.
I love how the poem touches on parental love, romantic love, self-love, and the “unknowns” of love.
As for my part, exhausted and with a mile-long to-do list I couldn’t even attempt. I went to the Source of Love and sent my partner 1 Corinthians 13:4-8–but again, that describes rather than defines love, and there are more negatives than positives in the description.
According to 1 John 4:8. God is love. Love, therefore, is as complex and multifaceted as God. Perhaps, this is what makes it difficult to define.
About the image: The postcard above was sent to me by my friend Cy after a trip to New York last summer.
From the postcard back: The artist, Robert Indiana, settled in New York City in 1954 and began making pop art. His most famous work, Love, was originally designed as a Christmas card for the Museum of Modern Art (MoMA) in 1964. The image quickly became a symbol of peace at a time when the country had become involved in the Viet Nam War. The 12-foot sculpture was installed at the corner of 6th Avenue and 55th Street in 1971, two blocks from MoMA. It has become one of the most photographed icons in New York City. Every day thousands of couples visit the sculpture and awkwardly ask a stranger to take their photograph.
Can you believe February is almost over? Didn’t 2019 begin just yesterday?! I’m not sure what the rest of the week will bring, so I thought I’d better share the love mail I found in my mailbox before the remaining days of the month slip away.
From Christine B, my ever faithful penfriend, a heart-shaped cactus:
From another Love Notes friend, Suzette R, an edited photograph with the words “Be Mine” in a beautiful cursive font.
From yet another Love Notes friend, Eileen V, a special postcard in which she “transformed” the flowers into sunflowers just for me.
An adorable card from my great-niece, who just turned one last week! She made this with a “little help” from her mommy, Tiffany:
She also included a picture of herself. She’s grown quite a bit since her debut on the blog last June.
Isn’t she adorable? I think my wardrobe needs a pair of glittery red, heart-shaped glasses.
The card positioned at the top of the post was also part of my mailbox love this month. The artist, Rachel of Fia’s Designs, sent the card as a “thank you” for subscribing to her mailing list and as an incentive to send more snail mail. Usually, I don’t need an incentive, but it’s been a bit of a challenge getting snail mail out this year. Maybe, this cutie will get me started again.
You can find Rachel:
Wishing you a lovely week… ❤
is the only
when I consider
Since #ThursdayTreeLove falls on Valentine’s Day this year, I get to express my love for trees and love in one photo. How sweet!
The edited photo above features a couple taking a romantic gondola ride in City Park of New Orleans. The couple is framed by some of the gorgeous sprawling, mossy oaks of the park. Don’t you just love love and oaks?
The poem was written by a writer I found on Instagram. I’d change it just a little–Love and trees are the only things that make sense to me…
I am joining Parul Thakur for #ThursdayTreeLove every second and fourth Thursday of the month. If you would like to play along, post a picture of a tree on your blog and link it back to her latest #treelove post.
Is a Saturday morning post the same thing as a Friday post?
I crashed (on and off) after getting through the short Friday workday. When we arrived home at about 1:30, I made lunch for the kiddo and went to sleep. I woke up in time to make dinner and lounged and “liked” on IG until sleep overcame me again. My body is insisting on the sleep “they” say we can never catch up on.
No one ever told me I’d be a caregiver and how challenging that is. But I’m strong–and have risen to the challenge.
Lynda’s husband suffered a stroke in 2017, and of course, life changed for them in an instant. As I struggled with which “no one ever told me” to share, Lynda’s response gave me pause. Late last year two of my uncles had strokes–my mom’s brother in New Orleans and my dad’s brother-in-love, who lives here in Northern Alabama.
Because I live here, I witnessed that moment when life changed for all our family here–and especially for my aunt. The battle between faith and fear when the doctors offered no hope. [Faith won]. The immediate shift in priorities. The action plan. The fight in all of us.
My aunt, who hadn’t driven in years, started driving again and picked up my uncle’s usual tasks. My dad’s other sisters, who also live here, adjusted their lives too.
And, like Lynda said, no one can ever tell us this is going to happen. There is no preparation. No training. No warning. This is life, and when we are living and walking in hope, faith, and love, we roll with it. We adjust. We rise to the challenge and accept our new normal(s).
Maybe, one day, I’ll share my uncle’s miraculous story, but for now, I wish you a happy and restful weekend and strength for this journey called life.
Love After Love by Derek Walcott
We take a lot of abuse as we try to get through this thing called life, especially if we want to live with as little “drama” as possible. Little by little we give bits of ourselves away and suppress the best parts for the acceptance of others, until there’s little trace of our beautiful, natural self.
We can’t quite love this crafted version of ourselves, but we struggle to recall who we really are. All is not lost. Derek Walcott’s “Love After Love” offers hope for the journey to self-recovery.
If your true self has lain dormant, but you’re constantly at odds with this alien self, I hope you will take the hard road of self-love. Stand up. Advocate for you. Fight for you. Unearth your true self. Find her in the mirror and learn to love her again.
One of the most amazing experiences I had last year was traveling to Montgomery, Alabama [with a colleague and several Huntsville area K-12 teachers] and walking the path where Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr. began his activism. We often discuss King’s leading the fight for Civil Rights in this country with emphasis on his practice of non-violent/passive resistance. But, while he worked to build bridges between blacks and whites during one of the most turbulent eras of United States racial history, King also addressed the need for African Americans to resist the stigmatization of blackness. He urged us to love ourselves in spite of our country’s ingrained propensity to chip away at any inclination we possess toward authentic self-love and acceptance.
King would have been 90 today, and since his birthday falls during Pics and Posts’ “Self-love Week,” I am sharing an excerpt from a speech that encourages self-love.
I come here tonight to plead with you. Believe in yourself and believe that you are somebody. I said to a group last night: Nobody else can do this for us. No document can do this for us. No Lincolnian emancipation proclamation can do this for us. No Johnsonian Civil Rights bill can do this for us.
If the Negro is to be free, he must move down into the inner resources of his own soul and sign with a pen and ink of self-assertive manhood his own emancipation proclamation.
Don’t let anybody take your manhood. Be proud of our heritage…we don’t have anything to be ashamed of.
Somebody told a lie one day. They couched it in language. They made everything “black” ugly and evil. Look in your dictionaries and see the synonyms of the word “black.” It’s always something degrading and low and sinister. Look at the word “white,” it’s always something pure, high and clean. Well, I want to get the language right tonight.
I want to get the language so right that everyone here will cry out: ‘Yes, I’m Black, I’m proud of it. I’m Black and I’m beautiful!”
And because MLK’s speeches are best experienced aurally:
King spoke specifically to African Americans in this speech, but there’s something in his speech for everyone. Dig deep and do the work. Love the skin you’re in. Find within you that which is good and strong and beautiful.
Perhaps, if everyone took the time to love themselves the world wouldn’t be such a mess! We wouldn’t have to feast on fear and hatred or make ourselves sick building superficial lives in search of acceptance by others.
People who love themselves love people. People who love themselves are beautiful. People who love themselves use their energy and resources to build up others, not tear down and destroy.
Self-love is work, but one of the best ways we express self-love is through the soul work of loving others.