Love Means Never Having To Say You're Stupid

There was this movie back in the olden days called "Love Story".  I'm not sure I ever saw the movie but I remember the tag line was "Love means never having to say you're sorry".

I always thought that line was stupid enough that is should earn a sign from Bill Engvall.  This line might have worked for some people, but only perfect people never need to say they are sorry.  This struck me as being so stupid that I've spent years saying "Love means never having to say you're stupid".

Let me explain what I believe love isn't, then I'll tell you what I think it is.

Here's what love isn't.  Love isn't that warm fuzzy "gee I feel so good I want to pop" feeling you get when you look into that special someone's eyes.  Love isn't warm sunny days, walks in the park, or romantic dinners.  Love isn't being twitterpated (for those of you who are thumper fans).

Since I had been around long enough to figure it out I've explained what love actually is like this (write this down, people.  It will be on the test).

Love is holding the bucket while someone pukes.

Love consists of things that cost you something, but you just don't care about the cost.  All that warm fuzzy, moon hitting your eye like a big pizza pie foolishness is self serving and self serving doesn't really fit into love.  Love is sacrafice.  Love is being kind and unselfish when that's not what someone would normally do.

I've seen love and this year, the worst year of my life, I've seen crazy lots of it.

I saw Shane lecture my wife about taking her MS medication and playing the cancer card to extract a promise to be more diligent.  Since the day of the promise Michelle hasn't missed a single dose. 

He could have had his focus on his disease or what mattered to him in the short time he had left, but instead he spent his time coaching and encouraging those around him.  He put his efforts in uplifting family members and the nursing staff. 

A month or two prior to his diagnosis Shane went to the doctor because he had chest pain.  The chest pain was being caused as cancerous tumors on his lever pressed against his lungs.  The doctor dropped the ball and didn't look close enough to find the real problem because she was busy.  That doctor called Shane as he was dying from the cancer she missed to apologize.  Shane told her not to sweat it and to focus on doing a better job on the next patient.

He let them cut out his eyes so a 68 year old man in Colorado and a 22 year old woman in Scottland can see now.  He never met them.  He donated his body to science so they could bring in doctors and students to cut it up and try to learn how to give the next young father a shot at more time with his wife and infant son.

My son was always good at keeping his focus on what mattered to him most.  I saw love define what mattered to him.  I knew it was love because the focus wasn't on him.

I saw Cassandra sit bed side and watch the horrible ending of her husband's life.  We all came away from last July with nightmares but hers and Mandy's are especially troubling.  They chose to be there to comfort Shane in his last hours even though the images they took from that time will haunt them forever.

I watch my little daughter focus on everyone else.  If she's not giving up her weekend to do a photo shoot to capture priceless memories for some young mother, she's organizing a baby shower or helping someone paint a room.

Mandy stayed up almost all night putting together the euligy and slide show that many of you saw at Shane's funeral.  Her focus wasn't on how hard this loss was for her, it was on helping a bunch of other people as they worked to cope.

Since that time my little daughter has spent hundreds of hours and probably thousands of dollars coming back to Colorado so she could be there to serve Cassandra and Devin.  Mandy disappeared into the shadows and my son's family was given focus.

Holding the bucket.

People we never met brought us meals every day.  It cost them time and money.

Brian Gilmore pulled an all-nighter rushing to the hospital to see Shane, drove home the same day (because he had to work) and then turned around and did it again to support us (the surviving family) at the funeral a couple of days later.  Lots of our friends from Allen made the trip.  Bruce and Debbie, David, Chris and her daughter Michelle.  It didn't stop there.  We had friends from Colorado, Wyoming, and other states too.  All these people stopped in the middle of their busy lives and made our comfort more important than theirs.

When Michelle and I got back to Cookson we were surrounded by the massive hug that results from a whole community comming together to support you.

I lost my son this year but I saw love.  I saw it in Shane's wife.  I saw it in my little daughter.  I saw it in my friends and neighbors and I saw love in my son as I've never seen it before.

I also saw God hold the bucket.  As dozens if not hundreds of people begged for a miracle that would buy Shane a few more years, God chose to answer with a "No" that would even make some of them question his love or motives.  He might have served himself better if he gave the prayer warriors some more of Shane's time, but God is good even when we don't get it. 

As Shane was showing love to his doctors, nurses, and family without regard for what would be best for Shane, God did what was best for Shane without regard for what might most increase God's wow factor and fan base.       

Here's The Thing

Today when I was reading Mandy's blog called Still Good I had these thoughts I have from time to time.

First, people give life too much credit.  It's miniscule.  It's puny.  It's insignificant.  If you believe what I believe then you believe in eternity.  If eternity is infinant time, then you need to ponder what percent 100 years or so is of infinity.  Miniscule.  Puny.  Insignificant.

People put all this effort into the wonders of living an extra 20 (or 50) years.  People describe the loss of a few decades with horror and dread.  From my new perspective the extra 50 years is like cutting your vacation short by heading for the airport 10 minutes earlier.  I've probably got less than 30 good years left and when it seems like too long, I just focus on the big picture and realize it's the length of a photographers flash.  For me it's a coping mechanism from time to time, but if you think your life is the most important thing, perhaps you should consider grabbing hold of something else.

The other thing that runs through my head is how everyone has it backwards.  I never prayed for Shane's recovery.  I always prayed for God's will.  In church today the preacher said when we pray we don't really wan't the answer to be "no" or "wait" we only want it to be "yes". 

Hind sight being 20-20 I would have traded the "yes" I got for either of those other two choices but that's only because I, like everyone else, have it backwards.

Did Shane lose his battle with cancer?  Is he worse off than people who "dodged the bullet" so to speak and spend the rest of their lives getting annual checkups with crossed fingers?  Seems like there is some deep philosophy in there somewhere but what I learned is that from the perspective of the big picture I am like life.

Miniscule.  Puny.  Insignificant.

I expect if I were more I would realize that the greatest will be the least, loosing is a win, and somehow many of us are being decieved. 

In all that I find another coping mechinism.  Backwards or forwards, when the dust settles the worst I can do is leave five or ten minutes early (or late) for the airport.  The vacation comes to an end anyway.