I just dropped someone I love dearly off at the airport. You would think I’d be used to it by now, but each time my heart cracks and weeps a little bit.
But don’t get me wrong. It also sings with joy. It sings, perhaps off-key, because the person I love is off to a grand adventure. Because I’ve had time with this person, and I relish time with this person. Because, as I’ve written over and over again, I love to love – I think it’s my absolute favorite thing to do – and the cracking and weeping are once again proof of my love.
I re-had that old thought process on my drive home. How did I ever learn to love so much? How did my capacity to love (and hopefully be loved) not only not wither away, but instead becoming one of my top values in life? How did it become the epitome of how I live my life?
I love to give love. I love to receive love. I love to be with people I love. I warn people I love that I love to express love. I’m a touchy-feely, huggy person. And I’m proud.
I don’t know exactly when I’ll see this person again. That’s okay. I do know I’m awed by the glory and beauty and overcoming-ness of love. I’m relishing the heartache and weepiness. I’m also relishing the joy that is creeping up behind it and overtaking it.
I highly recommend loving with all your heart.
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