Climbing in Love

I am eight months post my 3 year relationship sabbatical. At times, I want to retreat back to self-imposed intimacy exile, yet I know that relearning this stuff is crucial. Recently, I've been re-immersed in the "early phase" of a relationship...the head over heals part, the think about him all the time part, the wonder how his day has been part. I feel looney and vulnerable, ridiculous and buoyant, sixteen and forty-two all at the same time.

I like this phase because it's fun and it feels good. I enjoy sharing joys and sorrows with someone else. I enjoy the unfolding of each experience, the new insights of each conversation, the series of "firsts" that accompany a new relationship.

I dislike it because it is scary. It feels too good to be true, and regardless of how the future goes...this experience is temporal. The newness goes away. The first kiss happens, by definition, only once. These moments fade.

Infatuation, I am learning, looks similar whether we date as teenagers or in midlife. My perspective on the experience, however, has definitely changed alongide the shift in my ideal date. As a young adult, my dream date involved dressing up and going out. At midlife, my dream date involves jeans, cooking in, and playing Yahtzee.

There are more substantive arenas in which my 42 year old perspective differs from the teenage one. I now realize that relationships are not, ultimately, about "falling in love". "Falling" is involuntary and accidental; that is not love. This morning's sermon, the culmination of a series of sermons pondering the meaning of love, confirmed this. Love, our pastor asserted, is patient and kind. Love is humble and "does not insist on its own way". In sum, love is intentional and feels more, at times, like an uphill climb than a fall.

My sabbatical, and the work I did amidst it, helped me tap into the ways that I previously lived out a distorted vision of love. My patience depended on being right. My kindness extended only as far as I got my own way. I craved the experience of falling in love, without the real work. And now I am learning, slowly, how to take love one step at a time. Watch my footing. Hold onto the rope. And enjoy the view while I climb.