you might be sitting across a table, exchanging nervous glances and thousand-watt grins, on your first excursion back into dating after a hard break-up …
or maybe you’re having your fingers bathed in puppy breath, staring into the begging eyes that peek through the cage at a local animal shelter after losing a four-legged friend …
or maybe you’re bent face down in the aisle of a church – wrestling with a faith you thought you’d abandoned long ago – feeling God-breathed words bask you in such light that your skepticism, your past hurts and grievances, seem to vanish as the view of a Savior wholeheartedly different than you’ve ever known becomes clear as a church bell before you.
not first love … but love, again.
when my second child was placed, wet and blinking, on my chest, i was struck with a rush of maternal affection that was similar – and yet wholly distinct – from what i had experienced the first time around. i found the experience remarkable – how the old familiar and the new peculiar comingled to form something altogether its own. our first exchange took place, not in words, but through quizzical stares.
it sneaks up on you a bit – nothing like the way they play it in the movies –
this falling in love, again.
it’s a process both immediate and painstakingly, calculatingly slow.
a jolt of emotion and a quiet, steady drip of choosing to walk the footsteps that
all who love must make: through sacrifice, through fear, into surrender.
all the while, as you walk, you have memories, like dandelion fuzz, clinging to your sleeves, your eyelashes, woven into wisps of your hair. they remind you that you’ve seen this territory before – been there, done that, got the scar to prove it — that beneath the patches of velveteen clover, there are land mines, littered invisible.
you walk on anyway …
because, really, what is your other choice?
while choosing love may bring pain, refusing love is certain death.
i marvel, as i have so many times in the past 8 months since that sweet first son went home to his Father, at the silent bravery of my soul friends. the way that they are choosing this more-love, this again-love, in the face of such adversity is evidence of His grace, how it flows best through the most broken of vessels.
how they love Him.
and each other.
and her …
and him …
and now, him …
each love singular and specific and rare … and yet,
all pouring from the same spout:
the very One who created us to marvel at the intricacies of our diversity.
the soft curl of this one’s hair,
the cavernous dimple on this one’s cheek,
the cat’s mew cry of this one’s voice.
every minute detail … is a love letter from God written into our very DNA.
and this life, precious and short,
ought be spent reading as many as we can
and offering our praise
to the Author.
the stories he writes are all stories of love … and we are invited to see them,
to read them on human skin …
and to fall in love – all over again.
posting may be a bit slow here for a time, as we soak up and savor the gift of a second son. we ask your prayers for Sonya and Drason, for Livi and Bayo, as they adjust to being a family of four, for peace and rest as they meet emotions both tender and tough, and for the work of Banebow, as this family continues to build a legacy in honor of Bane.