What Love Is

 

What is love?

Is it just a chemical reaction that fades over time?  A lot of scientists probably think so.  Is it butterflies?  Tingles?  A sparkle in your eye?

Does it mean never having to say you're sorry?

Does it mean you can do whatever the hell you want to someone, knowing that they will forgive you every time, so it's okay? (Some people think so.)

But I don't think it's any of these things.

I've learned so much throughout this entire ordeal with my son.  So many things, about God and faith and how things really work between here and the veil.

But probably, the most simple, beautiful lesson I've learned, is what love is.  What it really is.

Love is letting go.  It's understanding that someone dear to you might need something more than you can give them, so you let them go to that place, or be in that place, with the people who can take care of them.

Love is a friend who calls you every day, or shoots you a text, or sends you an email, and asks you how you are first, even though you know that they have their own struggles.

Love is a friend who shows up at the door with dinner on your hardest days.

Love is someone who is planning a wedding and running a dance academy, who still looks you straight in the eye and says, How are you? And gives you a hug, even though they have a million things to do.

Love is forgiving yourself for your own perceived shortcomings, and allowing someone else to love you in spite of them.

Love is a Facebook message.

Love is a man pausing in his backyard shed to say a prayer.

Love is two people who sacrificed every Sunday so that they could teach my son and called it a privilege.

Love is two other people who modified cub scout meetings so that my son could be engaged.

Love is an autism specialist.

Love is elementary school teachers, paraprofessionals, speech therapists, and high school teachers.

Love is a support group.

Love is the friend that calls me up and asks me about my son before they talk about anything else.

Love is a ward fast.

Love is all the people who have consistently been in my life over the last few months, who have lifted their voices in prayer, put their arms around me and my family, called me, texted me, wrote messages, and offered support in ways too numerous to count.  

Love is a Bishop, his counselors, and their wives.

Love is a mom,  watching her daughter go through the most challenging time of her life, offering the best kind of support and help available.

Love is the friend who called me, in spite of her own challenges with her own special needs children.

Love is a distant cousin who messages me on Facebook and asks me to have lunch with her.

Love is a little brother who sends me silly text messages and cheers me up. 

Love is all my other children, who hug me every day, make me laugh, and bring me so much joy.

Love is not making excuses.

Love is all the people who pointed me in the direction of the services Logan needed.  Sometimes it was just a casual comment, sometimes, it was an email or a conversation, but little by little, he got to where he needed to be at this time.

All of this, this is what love is.  It's so beautiful, and so simple, and the one thing all of this has in common is this:  All of these great, wonderful people, put someone else ahead of themselves.  They didn't judge.  If they did, they kept it to themselves. They didn't complain. They didn't ask, Why should I do this?  They just did what needed to be done.  And I will never, ever forget, and I will never stop being grateful.