What does love look like?
I attended a family reunion for my mom’s side of the family recently. It was a fun event, but I will admit that I was dreading parts of this reunion. I was not excited about the social aspect as historically, I have felt the compulsive need to create real and lasting connections with each and every member of the family: totalling about 65 individuals. This just isn't feasible, unfortunately. Nevertheless, I attended the reunion. For the first time, I did far more sitting back and observing than pursuing and chatting. Perhaps I came off cold, but I was introspective and learning a lot.
The first day of the reunion was a bit chaotic. I had some work fires to put out in the morning and then set out for the first events of the reunion. This drive was about an hour long and was elongated by a tumultuous hail storm. By the time we got to the location of the event, I was already distraught and not feeling up to connecting with others. Still, I tried to bite the bullet and put on a smiling face as much as I could.
The next day, we were able to gather at my sister's home where there were activities for the kids and room to spread out and have nice conversation. It was a good day, but again- I wasn't so excited to connect.
On the final day of the reunion, we organized at a neighborhood clubhouse and played all sorts of family-themed games with the culmination of the evening being exceptional karaoke performances by the grandkids and great-grandkids in the family. However, one other event on this day really stood out to me. During dinner, my grandma and grandpa each shared a few words about what this family reunion--and this family, for that matter--meant to them. It was in these speeches that I was compelled to write a blog post documenting some of my thoughts.
Specifically, my grandpa said, "Throughout this entire reunion, there's been no arguing or friction. There has only been love."
My brain first processed this statement logically. I immediately flew to being upset with how many people had brought their dogs to the reunion, and how those dogs were not all well behaved--causing some serious allergic reactions to members of our family. I was mad about this! Then my brain remembered my uncles complaining that there was too much food, or not enough food, or too much unhealthy food, or too little healthy food. I remembered people asking questions, which could be interpreted as judgmental, about other family members behind their backs. I thought of people getting tired and short with their spouses and siblings. How could my grandpa have seen "love" at this reunion with all of this craziness going on?
That's when the emotional side of my brain kicked in. It brought forth different memories from the logical side of my brain: people jumping up to help load and unload cars; members of the family loving, hugging, kissing, and complementing each other; mothers adoring the cute children of other mothers; fathers asking fathers about work and family life. I remembered people seeing the lovability of dogs and taking allergy pills because having those dogs at the reunion was one way to show love to the dog owners. I recalled uncles making jokes to help them get through the indigestion of the incredible food we ate. I thought of people being tired and grumpy, but not too tired and grumpy to give hugs at the end of the night when the kids have lost their minds. I remember people asking questions to understand and express empathy for opposing views.
Where the logical and emotional parts of my brain met, I saw truth and wisdom. I saw that, despite some setbacks here and there, there really was a tremendous amount of love at this reunion. I learned what love was--and I learned that it doesn't always look perfect (after all, there was only one person who actually loved perfectly).
I learned that love looks like accepting everyone around us for the humans they are. Love looks like wanting to chuck that dog over the fence but getting down to pet him anyway. Love might be wanting to rip your sister's head off, but choosing not to! Love might be spending weeks preparing for a reunion and having different opinions than the other planners, but still going to the reunion. Love is letting that terrible comment slide because we know that person didn't intend to hurt us and just wasn't thinking. Love looks like trying to understand how someone who believes so differently from me is not wrong; they are doing their best with what they have, just like me. Love is saying "I'm sorry" and "I love you" in whatever way you can, even if it's not those exact words.
I hardly got to speak to my grandpa at this reunion. But man alive, his words taught me a whole lot about what it means to love: I am going to try to love perfectly and settle when I, and those around me, inevitably love beautifully imperfectly.