I’m a MN girl. I’ve sat crying on my couch at times over these last few weeks with all that’s going on, feeling powerless. But here’s what I realized. Powerlessness is a myth. Sometimes it’s in the worst of times that this myth grows especially big, because problems seem too large to tackle and fear takes over. Literally, our nervous system paralyzes us. Or sometimes causes us to hide or run, or stand and fight. Each of these responses may be protective and needed in a given context, but sometimes our actions are reflexive and make no logical sense.
I remember one specific day a few years ago when I opened our front door and a large bird flew straight into our house, rammed into the opposite window and died on our carpet. What did I do in that split second? I screamed and ran into the back bedroom closet–all in one reflexive motion. And then I emerged and asked myself, “What just happened?” My fight or flight system had taken over.
So don’t judge yourself if you feel fear and paralysis right now. But my friend, there is a stronger force to harness if you so choose. That is the force of love. The parasympathetic nervous system that invites nurturing and connection can win out.
This is true in parenting and all of life: “Love never faileth.” How can this be true? Not every initiative conceived with love “succeeds” (or brings forth the intended fruit) and truly the mere feeling of love does not solve the world’s problems. But it is a solid starting and ending point. It is the safe ground to stand upon when all else fails, when all else feels as if it’s crumbling beneath our feet.
Love as a noun is the start, but love as a verb is where all this goes.
So what does love in action look like? There may be some common themes and threads, but the beautiful reality is this. There are too many possibilities to name.
Love in action is a radical, specific act or innovation that cannot be foretold. It cannot be legislated against because it’s so specific to the situation and the individual giver and receiver, that no one can exactly predict or prohibit it.
Love is seeing a need and wisely filling it (in the way only you can because who and where you are in a given moment). Only YOU are at this exact human intersection.
Last night, love looked like making my kids waffles for dinner.
Last month, on Christmas morning, love looked like this:
We had just finished the flurry of gift opening and the family dispersed to integrate their new items and indulge in the chocolate from their respective stockings. I was alone in the kitchen listening to Christmas choral music. I looked out the window and saw a man walking alone on the empty, cold street carrying a backpack. It seemed that he moved to the beat of the song, which happened to be “O Come, O Come Emmanuel” at the moment. It was a soundtrack in a movie and the sky and mountains were the backdrop. This was a moment of internal pause; a human intersection. I could have looked away and gone back to cleaning up dishes and piles of wrapping paper, but I didn’t. I dumped the candy from my stocking, a pair of gloves, an orange, and an apple into a small brown gift bag. I threw on my coat and asked one of my teenage boys to get in the car with me. (Honestly, I was a little afraid and it made me feel safer to have him there.) He was like, “Where are we going mom?” I told him, “I saw this guy through the window walking down the road and I wanted to bring him something. I thought about how he’s someone’s son too, you know. If I was his mom, I’d want someone to do this.”
By the time we got on the road, I couldn’t see him anymore, but we kept driving along trying to predict where he may have gone. I turned into an empty grocery store parking lot, and there he was, digging in the trash can. I pulled the car up next to him and said, “Excuse me, sir. I wanted to wish you a Merry Christmas.” I handed him the bag and we drove
