A Love So Real

Last night instead of doing the ten million things on my to-do list I read a novel - a whole novel. Granted, it was a short one, but I still think it shows how good it was that it supplanted all of my other priorities. It was Edith Wharton's Ethan Frome. Let me tell you...if I'd been in any sort of crying mood this one would have had me weeping into my pillow through the night. Thankfully I wasn't inclined to be emotional last night, so instead it's just had me thinking all day today about the nature of love.

I would give you a complete run-down of the book, but I have this thing where I hate when people rely on a synopsis rather than just reading something on their own. So if you want to know what it's about then find me and borrow my copy and read it. Or go buy your own.

Anyways here are the basics that you need: it's a tragical love story about a man and woman who have fallen in love but can't be together because he's already married. (Also, props to Edith for keeping the whole story exceptionally clean...she really could have taken it into dangerous territory.) At the end of the story [spoiler warning] the two try to commit suicide together, but they both botch it and end up spending the rest of their (very long) lives being taken care of by the man's wife because they sustain some nasty injuries rather than ending up dead.

In my American Lit. class we're reading Longfellow, and today I read the poem "The Cross of Snow." Longfellow didn't have much luck in love; his first wife died when she miscarried their child, and his second wife burnt to death in a horrible accident. "The Cross of Snow" is about his second wife. I think it's a beautiful piece, but I know that most people aren't as fond of poetry as I am, so I won't make you read the whole thing, but I will give you my favorite line:

That sun-defying, in its deep ravines

Displays a cross of snow upon its side.

Such is the cross I wear upon my breast

These eighteen years, through all the changing scenes

And seasons, changeless since the day she died.



Poor Longfellow...I think a part of him died when Francis did. The world must have lost a lot of its magic and splendor for him...but obviously not all of it considering the amazing works he turned out in great quantities.

I can't imagine being loved by someone in these ways. They seem so...intense and scary and insane and over-the-top.  They remind me of something John Cusack says in a movie about a love so real that even when you're dead it hurts.

But I am loved in these ways.

I also happen to be reading a book called Girl Meets God. It's a memoir about a Jewish woman and how she learns to marry her Jewish upbringing to her new Christian faith. It's one of my favorite books, and I've read it several times, but each time I find new things in it that make me think.

At some point in the book she talks about being in love with her boyfriend and she says of him, " It feels like we have been in love a long, long time, and also like it is brand-spanking new, and will stay just that new forever. The only other person I have fallen in love with in that way is Jesus, and I hope that goes more smoothly. I hope I remember, when I'm bored with Him, and antsy, and sick of brushing my teeth next to the same god every morning, I hope I remember not to leave Him. I am not so worried that He will leave me. The Bible, after all, is full of stories about God sticking with His bride, no matter how stiff-necked and prideful and unfaithful she may be."

That paragraph really slapped me in the face...

You see, Jesus and I have been together for quite some time now. And as much as I hate to admit it, the wonder of Him has really worn off. He's not new and exciting anymore...I've broken Him in and adjusted Him to fit into my life. Dare I say that He's become mundane in my eyes? The wonder of Him dying for me has faded into the background. He's a fixture in my life, but He's not someone I really appreciate anymore. I'd be lost without Him, but I know that He's not going anywhere so I don't really worry about making Him happy anymore.

The worst part of all of that is that He's crazy in love with me. So much so that He gave up His life. I didn't do anything to deserve that love, but He's given it to me anyways...and He continues to give it to me.

I wish I could wrap up my thoughts with a nice little paragraph about how I apologized to Him and now it's all fixed, but let's face it: apologies only fix everything when you're five years old. I mean, I did apologize to Him, and He and I talked about the situation for a while, but it's not all fixed. And it's not going to be all fixed tomorrow. I've wronged Him. I've spent a very very long time disregarding the One who loves me the most. I have to re-learn Him now. I have to rediscover Him. And that's going to take some time.

But the good news is that He understands and He's forgiven me and He still loves me like He always has.