One thing I know. I am becoming more truly loving and this is not as much fun as one might think. I aways thought I was a "loving" person, but it was a "tit-for-tat" reciprocal sort of love I was envisioning - or, at the very least, loving kindness that would be appreciated.
I rather like author Scott Peck's definition of love, found in his book The Road Less Traveled, "I define love thus: "The will to extend one's self for the purpose of nurturing one's own or another's spiritual growth." I actually think he could almost have written "one's own and another's".... Seems to me they go together.... But, in any case, you certainly need a sense of humor keep you going.
Two cases in point this week:
Monday was my birthday. I had to scoot out to work before Anastasia got up - but never fear! She sent me a Birthday text, to wit:
It is ur birthday. I am going to make ur life
a living hell.
Now, if you can't laugh at that, you have no sense of humor. OK; it took me a moment. But, after a bit of thought I realized this is actually a sort of breakthrough. It shows that she recognizes birthdays (both hers and others') as a trigger. Step in the right direction, yes?
Slightly harder to take, but still funny in its way was conversation with Maxim last week. Every week I drive him to his counseling session, and abandonment-wary as ever, he wants me to stay there rather than go run errands or whatever. As long as the interesting magazines held out I was OK with that, but having read the same Good Housekeeping for the third or fourth time (down to actually reading the tiny ads at the back), I suggested that rather than wait in the waiting room, I get his laundry started a few doors down. (That was going to be the next thing on our list, and while I had intended not to do it for him, but to teach him to do it -frankly, two birds with one hour and a half sounded good.)
Unfortunately, this was one of those 95 degree, high-humidity days and that darned laundromat didn't have air conditioning! It was like being in a cross between a hot house and a men's locker room....stinky, dank....horrible. Nearly twenty-dollars in quarters later Maxim joins me, and as is so often the case, was full of insights and ideas that he wanted to share with me. I strained to listen attentively, while folding laundry; by that time I was literally faint and almost nauseous from being over-heated, and foolishly I'd worn some sandals for the first time that were torturing my now throbbing feet. But, Maxim had some big thoughts to share and he headed right into them. He isn't able to love, he has concluded..... "Now, for example, you, Mrs. Kitching. I like the stuff you do for me and everything. But, if you died, I really wouldn't be sad about it."
Throbbing feet, sweat dripping down my face, more clothes than could fit into the two baskets. A couple of big, thick towels that would not dry.... But, somehow, despite this (or perhaps because of it) I was still able to find the situation amusing. And, later I could even see the bright side - it certainly shows he trusts me enough to tell me anything, doesn't it?
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