WE ALL bear the face of love, and our face often bares the depth of our love.
My friend Rosse G. said, “Even those who have gone astray had at one time in their life known true love.”
All week we talked about the length, height, depth and width our love goes.
She told me, “I know of a wife, 16 years taking care of a husband, a stroke survivor who has other health issues. Do you think she has the face of love?”
Who knows? There could be days it’s more of the face of weariness or impatience? But love is patient, St. Paul defines love in 1 Cor. 13. When we lose our temper or become impatient or plain exasperated by the ingratitude of those we serve, does the face of love depart from us?
It’s comforting to know that not all witchy irritability comes from selfishness. It’s wrong to snap at other people, true, but there’s a reason why.
Before going on, let me say I’m not talking about patience in an abusive environment. That is a matter that must be dealt with. The patience here is among people who still have love, but the environment tests love’s fiber.
The loss of this powerful element in a relationship proceeds from focus on perfection, an insistence that everything must be met like clockwork.
When expectations are not met or are ruined by other people, short fuses ignite, pent-up emotions explode like guided missiles directed at the significant other.
How many times have we heard pastors and priests drill into our thick skulls that perfection resides only in God? I heard from an old sermon that we need to love God and others, not our dream for perfect love on earth.
That’s why St. Paul painted love’s face as not rude nor easily angered. Most of all, it keeps no record of ills, and always hopes.