Not quite Favorites February…But rather a completely new look at an old blog, “A New Definition of Romance.“
Dinged. Scratched. Worn. Cherished. The rings slipped onto fingers when we promised strong vows show their years. So do we. Prince Charming and his bride. A bit scarred, revealing our battles, our fights. The fights where we clawed out, gripped tight, clung to the other. The refusal to let go.
Romance is not for the dreamer. Fairy tales are unrealistic, but we expect the movie. And so our dreams fade. Disappear into the background of disappointment.
Disenchantment because we believe romance is the surprise of a dozen red roses. Sweeping romantic getaways to B&Bs. Quiet candlelight dinners, jazz playing in the background. Tiny wrapped boxes filled with jewels on holidays. Poetry read from balconies. Our trusted-in images of romance.
But what we believe is not reality. And so–hearts are broken. Fairy tale dreams are crushed.
What if ?
What if we discovered the real romance? It exists. It whispers from the folds and wrinkles of a face staring into the eyes of a beloved silently slipping into eternity. They know romance. Romance defined by life. Not the fairy tale.
And so romance must be redefined. Reimaged. Rediscovered. Romance as designed by the Creator of Love.
Love is patient. When I’m late…again…he smiles and follows me out the door.
Love is kind. He makes lunch for me. Brings me my first cup of coffee. Walks me to my car. Kisses me goodnight. Every. Single. Day.
It does not envy, it does not boast, it is not proud. It may not be a dozen roses and Godiva chocolate at the end of a long day, but rented chick-flicks and take-out remind me he knows my heart, and he is humble.
It does not dishonor others, it is not self-seeking. The way he loves our children. Unashamed abandon. Complete acceptance of who they are. His family—a close second to the Father.
It is not easily angered, it keeps no record of wrongs. His mistakes. My mistakes. Deep breathing required. Count to ten and keep praying. Praying until the anger dissipates. Until we forget. And in order to forget we pray for a lifetime.
Love does not delight in evil but rejoices with the truth. Choosing to appreciate the deep goodness. Ignoring the stacks of paper that are straightened instead of put away. But seeing him whisk children out of the house when migraines attack.
It always protects. Tanks of gas to keep me from filling up in the dark morning. Hand at my back, ushering me through valleys. My rock when barbs have been thrown my way.
It always trusts. Girls Night Out. Writer’s Conferences. Coffee with friends. No questions asked. No check-ins needed.
Always hopes. “You’re beautiful,” whispered in my ear. Even when I don’t believe him.
Always perseveres. Stolen glances over children screaming, milk spilling. Fingertips touching as our paths cross. Embracing the moments in between. We never stop trying.
Love never fails. And because Prince Charming and I are perfectly human and always fail, we remember a Savior’s love never does. His love is where we hide. His love covers our wrongs.
No poetry akin to Shakespeare. No red roses, romantic getaways. No surprise candlelit dinners.
But I have the fairy tale. Romance Rediscovered. It’s the partnership created—the vows made. Promises kept. 1 Corinthians 13 learned and relearned. All the time.
Prince Charming romances me because he loves me.