On A Good Day

On a good day, love isn't an emotion. That's right. I said it. Because it isn't. Or at least, it's not solely one. On a good day, it's a choice. It's pushed, pulled, and pressed by emotion, sure. But the line between nonsense and commitment is never more clearly demarcated than in the trenches of choice.

Which explains why our culture is so bent on falling in love - which is, not surprisingly, fast followed by falling out of love. Perhaps it also explains why we're so captivated by marriages lasting less time than the sell by date on a box of crackers.

Then again, it might also explain our fascination of the relationships that beat the odds. The ones that defy the capricious waters of affection to find firm ground on choice. A stand. A bit of self-control and (shudder to consider) maybe even some self-sacrifice, too.

Yeah, those are the ones the hate-bookies loathe. They're complicated. They're depleting. And they don't want for grim. They're also commendable. Satisfying. Revitalizing. They are worth it.

Here's one of mine.

We started out great. Then we derailed. Now we're back on track. Because we choose to be. Laying aside emotions leaves a door open and, when His time is just right, you might find what you're looking for has come back through it again.

This is my brother, Tim. He turns 39 today. And I celebrate that. I want him to feel hope and renewal and love and all manners of joy. Funny how choice uncorks the bottle of emotions while the topsy-truvy of emotion so rarely leads to fixed decision.

Or maybe I'm too much of a thinker. Maybe the whole thing is c*^%. But there will always be relationships, bent or broken, that need a little re-considering: I know I have a few. And if the stick of the choosing keeps the door ajar - even if it's just a miniscule crack - well, that might be just enough to let His love pour through.

On a good day.