Invitation to love

I wasn’t feeling particularly energetic yesterday morning, still in my pajamas, still on the couch, writing in my journal with very little ambition for the day. I felt okay; pain was low, energy was mild, and my husband walked over and asked, “Do you want to go for coffee?”

Because of my chronic illness history, my default is to ration energy. How did I sleep? How’s my pain level? Do I have enough energy to go out? If so, for how long? Is there something else today that I should save energy for?

But yesterday, I answered, “Sure!”

I’m experimenting with love… receiving love. Not earning it, not proving that I’m worthy or combining it with usefulness… nope, just receiving it.

Invitations require vulnerability; I’m noticing.

I let him choose a place, and when we got there, it was crowded; we decided to try another place - closed. So we headed downtown, further from home than I usually go. I felt some hesitation: would getting to the coffee shop deplete my energy? Would we have to walk further because of parking? But I relaxed into the adventure, trusting that my man knows me, my limits and is resourceful. He found the cutest place, which happened to be empty at the time, across the street from some art galleries, which we wandered through afterwards. We had a great time, and at the end of our date, Randy noticed the light coming in from the window and snapped a photo of me. He said it would make a good profile photo, which is something I’ve been wanting to update since the one I usually use is over 20 years old!

I felt loved, seen, and cherished, in a quiet, non-showy way. That’s what I love about my guy. He never makes a big deal about loving me; he just does. And that includes bringing dinner to the bedroom when I don’t feel well enough to sit at the table, or going to events alone (again), or accepting me in all the various states of physical appearance, weight fluctuations, pain levels, surgeries and illness intensities I’ve been through.

But this is not a story about him, or me. Our love is human, imperfect and flawed. And we will always be somewhat disappointing to each other because of this human-ness. Something will always lack, feel insecure, fearful and in need of healing. That’s normal, human love.

I’ve been meditating on a verse in Psalm 32 that describes God’s love as “unfailing” and “surrounding”.

Unfailing and surrounding.

But when I pray, I usually ask God for other things: strength and endurance. “Make me strong”, I pray. “Help me do things”. And while those are real desires of my heart, I’ve become aware of a deeper longing, one that is more difficult to ask: “God, love me. Help me feel loved, know it, be aware of it”. “Let your love surround me so that everything I do is affected, influenced, impacted by the reality that I am loved by you”. “I wanna know what that is like.”

So, when Randy invited me for coffee, I accepted partly because I’m experimenting with love. Research, perhaps. 😊 Can I say, “yes” and not work the moment to earn or prove something? Just accept.

It’s not easy. But I’m trying.

Today, I’ve spent most of the day in bed. Speaking of experiments, I tried some solid food yesterday, just a bit of chicken and hard-boiled egg, with lots of applesauce and water to wash it down. But my poor small intestines are not able to handle it yet, so I was up in the night with pain, heating pad on my side, massaging my abdomen, trying to coax the food along. I got impatient, hungry, bored with yogurt and mushy food. There is another procedure soon where the gastroenterologist will give me a pill-camera to swallow, and it will record video of the inside of my remaining intestine before it pops out into my ostomy bag. Then the doc will review the footage and be able to see if Crohn’s indeed exists and/or where the narrowing is and if it can be fixed. So, I must be patient and leave the solid food aside for now. Ugh.

However, after yesterday's date, today was harder to accept love. I skipped church, slept in, and spent most of the day in bed except for a short walk through my neighbourhood back alley. I could feel myself thinking up statements to justify why I was resting, why I didn’t go with Randy to visit his mom, why my phone was on silent most of the day.

I was tired and in pain. That’s it.

And… I’m still lovable.

It’s just harder to believe sometimes. So I resisted saying excuses out loud and instead told my husband that I’m just catching up on rest today from my rough night of pain. He understands. Of course he does. He saw me restless through the night. The guy has seen me in pain for 33/34 years of our marriage, so he gets it. What isn’t love is bombarding him with self-guilty words about why I’m not able to do this or that today. That is not love. So I didn’t go there.

And as I rested, I told God about my pain, my hunger, my boredom with mushy food and my impatience for how my body never really gets fixed no matter how many surgeries or procedures I have. And I cried a little. And I felt God’s loving presence. I did. Quiet, not-showy, no thunder or booming voice, just a quiet, close presence. An “it’s going to be okay” calming presence.

I accept.

Can you hear God’s invitation to love?