I lived my life as an adult,
Believing romantic love did not matter.
In sacrificial love – I was reliable.
In living for others – ignoring the self,
I took great pleasure.
How could I not?
The recipents were my children.
Giving to them cost me nothing,
Even when it cost me everything.
Some of you understand.
But romantic love…
That was sugar,
That was icing,
That was extra.
And one did not have to have it to live.
I believed that,
Because I had no choice.
It was my life almost immediately.
I sat on a see-saw begging my mate to join me.
And he refused.
Which left me alone
on a plank of wood on the ground.
I decided that in God’s eyes,
romantic love was unimportant.
To live? Unnecessary.
Commitment- that was love.
And it is.
But it is not all there is.
I was foolish to conclude
that because my life did not contain it,
It must not be important to God.
And I used stories I discovered to confirm it.
Stories in real life and stories in the Bible.
I didn’t focus on Abraham and Sarah,
who adored eachother and got into trouble when the king saw them playing together.
Or Jacob and Rachel.
He worked seven years for her,
Then seven more after his betrayal.
I didn’t see,
Because I was living the life of Leah.
But I understand now.
It is definitely in God’s plan.
It is the difference between living,
A husband adores his wife.
A wife adores her husband.
They pour into one another
Turn to lavish on their young.
That is a healthy family.
I get it now,
As a forty-five year old woman,
I get it.
And I want it.
I won’t settle for anything less than a balance of pragmatic and romantic.
It’s really real.
And it’s okay to want it.
Because it is