Mature Love

                Love is such a sought after commodity. People spend their entire lives working to earn it, reading about it, writing about it, dreaming of it, wondering why they don’t have it, and searching for it. It takes so much effort that we’re totally taken aback—shocked even—when we actually see it splayed out before us; raw, vulnerable, all-consuming, and immensely powerful.

                Rebecca is a mother to five, a police officer in a metropolitan school district, and one of my many first cousins. We haven’t bonded much, and our interactions have been limited to hugs and small talk on the rare holiday occasion where happenstance permits us to be in the same location.

                Maybe our personal relationship distance is caused by physical distance, or maybe by age difference, or unique career paths, life choices, stages in life, etc. (Even though I’m sure we could find common ground regarding a certain circular breakfast food/any time of day snack.)

                Regardless of our differences, family and ultimately love brought us together for our grandmother’s funeral. Between the ceremony and the balloon release, Rebecca bravely stood in front of at least 50 friends and family members, and struggled through sharing stories of her childhood experiences with our grandma.

                When tears became too powerful, she struggled to form words. Her sister (my cousin), Isabel, stood, walked down a parting in the folding chairs that formed an aisle, and with a knowing look in her eyes, gave Rebecca a hug and (I think) some strength and support she needed to carry on.

                Once again relentless grief overpowered her speech. This time, her daughter, Madeline, joined Rebecca and embraced her. It reminds me of the time when Jesus mourned Lazarus with Mary and Martha. (John 11) The man with words so important that they’re printed in special ink sat and wept with her. If actions speak louder than words, and Jesus gives the purist form of love, I think both Madeline and Isabel were emanating true love with their brief and quiet gestures.

                Somewhere in the five or so minutes that Rebecca spoke, she said something that stuck in my heart. She said something to the effect of, “I love Grandma, and I love my mom, and I love grandma for the part she had in making my mom who she is.”

                Love.

                I think I know now why those words have had such an impact on me. Not only was Rebecca expressing heartfelt emotion for her mother and grandmother, she was expressing love for grandma in the most mature from I’ve witnessed yet.

                She was saying she loved Grandma—despite her flaws—and she loved her for the way she shaped the world around her. It’s hard to acknowledge that we as human beings don’t simply love someone for who they are; we love them, in part, for how they make us feel. Rebecca expressed such a deep, complex emotion in one sentence. She expressed mature love, in one sentence.

                Some might argue that love isn’t worth the hassle. It’s time consuming, draining, painful, risky. Love leads us to reveal parts of ourselves that are better protected in the inner vaults of our soul. However, there is no risk without reward. Rebecca, Isabel, Madeline, and Grandma proved that all of that risk is worth it for the highest reward.