Love

Two years into this blog, I have written about a lot of things - from my dogs to my nieces, American Idol and Korean serials, videoke concerts to beaded slippers. I sometimes wonder what has taken me so long to write about this when I usually try not go MTRCB on myself.

For more than two decades, I have been falling deeper and deeper in love with someone.

And most of the credit to how that relationship has grown through years should not, and would not, be attributed to me. As a matter of fact, I am the worthy recipient of the usual snide remarks "He's too good for you." I admit I will never be good enough for him but because I love Him too much, I cannot and will not stop trying.

I am not perfect and I never will be, not while I am here. I am a work in progress, a manuscript with lots of blank pages, a piece of pottery with more than half of it all lop-sided and sloshy, a song in dire need of arrangement. But He does not seem to care - to borrow Julia Stiles' lines from 10 Things I Hate About You - "not even a little bit, not even at all." He is very patient with me, carefully smoothening my rough edges even though the entire exercise involves Him getting hurt and disappointed with me time and again. I can feel His pain everytime I fall. His disappointment is unmistakeable and apparent, I immediately hate myself everytime. How could I deeply hurt someone who loves me so much that the world could never be enough to fill? Callous. Selfish. Insensitive. That's what I am. Yet He believes that I can be better and He never stops giving me new beginnings and new mornings, when I can stand up, dust myself off and walk with Him, hand in hand, towards the sunrise.

His everyday gift for me is visual poetry - clouds with a silver lining, an irrepressible smile from a child, a sparrow fluttering about while ruffling its feathers, leaves of green swaying with the wind, slender fingers of lightning. On more special occasions, there's a cloud with a silver lining, a fiery sunset, bridges all aglow with lights, tulips of pink and blue, myriads of stars that the night sky almost looks silver. This is all for me, He says, and so much more. Once, He asked me if I knew how much He loved me. He said He loves me like the ocean. No matter how far you look, there seems to be no end, even past the point where the sky kisses the water. Just like the way water rolls over the ocean floor, He sees past my depths, which conceal sights of both beauty and darkness, and covers it all completely. Perfectly.

He is not just my happiness. As a matter of fact, He IS happiness. He is joy. This joy is not of this world, not like fleeting laughter or smothered giggles. It is happiness that goes deep down within me that even my soul sings in mute tones only audible to His ears. The happiness He gives me overflows, like water gushing from spring, gurgling and struggling to be free.

I find it a shame, though, that amidst my inner glow, the girl who sits across me in the jeep looks downcast...or the lady who bags my groceries seems forlorn...not to mention the teener selling sampaguitas near the bus stop whose eyes mirror uncertainty. And it's not just them. The old woman with sad eyes, the guy at the computer store who seems mad at everything he sees and the smart-suited woman who carries a Starbucks cup on one hand and the whole world on her shoulders. It does not feel right at all.

But it should feel right, I tell myself. If I overflow with happiness, someone would naturally be affected by it somehow, much like the way the common cold slips from one person to another with ease. It's somewhat like water flowing past the brim of a cup, rendering the surface it stands on void of dryness.

How could I, participant to the greatest love story the world has ever known, venture only as far as to see that there are others are in need of that love too? A love that will cover their imperfections and give hope. A love that spans time, gender or natioality. A love that can fill any void too deep or too dark. A love that is both true and truth. A love that is already given and simply waits to be accepted.

A love that is patient, love that is kind, a love that does not envy nor boast, a love that keeps no record of wrongs, a love that always trusts...always perseveres...