The Fate of Our Love

"Do you think this will work?"

He asked me earnestly, and with eyes-wide looking lovingly towards me. 

I wondered, will it?

Do we ever know if it will last forever? 

Or, do we make our best attempt to find a partner who we are willing to fight for; someone who despite life's challenges, you seem to continue to gravitate towards, and desire to please them and make them happy?

If I am honest, I don't believe in "the one."  I haven't for awhile. 

Don't take this as a jaded view or as someone who doesn't believe in love.

I am a true believer of love, but not love as most see it. 

Not an interim, contrived love, but a love that fights - with full-on MMA gloves.

A love that will be challenged various times in the lifetime of a marriage.

A love that will not always be happy or feel loving.

But a love that endures because it chooses to. 

It chooses over and over again to put itself on the front lines of the battlefield knowing full well that it will be hurt, scarred, and broken. 

That love may not want to get up at times, but it chooses with its last ounce of strength to ALWAYS try again.

So do I know if this will work?

No.

But what's the fun in knowing the future anyway? 

All I know is that I am willing to fight - fight hard without seizing - every day I am alive, and always put you first after Christ.

I love you - always more.

Enthusiastic Surrender

The natural course of life includes birth, breath, and death.  When the days come to an end each evening, and the moonlight illuminates the sky with stars, we accept that tomorrow the sun will rise once again to shine on the earth.  It is natural, and expected.  We do not question the inevitable and we come to terms with the state of reality fairly early.  So many facts of life have become our truth yet when we encounter another person “quien nos da chispa”, we tend to shy away from the spark because it is deemed foreign.  It ignites our inner core and is unfamiliar from the monotony of truths we have reclaimed as our reality.  When the chispas (“sparks”, for my gringo followers) fade, and the scars heal from their colorful embers, sometimes we are left with nothing but a burn corroding our new reality.  But in rare cases, when the chispas wane, what is left is a memory of the luminous eruption, and the everlasting twinkle of a connection that well, just works.  It is not contrived, but instinctive in a way.   Effortless, real, and sincere.  But most of all, enduring.  Why in these moments do we negate the existence of the glimmer?  Why is it so difficult for us as adults to see the glow and accept it as truth in our life?  We hesitate, test the waters, and question its legitimacy.  If only we could be as children in this aspect: moving towards the gentle glow in submission with enthusiastic open arms...