Love

You can learn what it is, but you can't teach it.
It must be given, but you can't take it.
Everyone needs it, but you can't earn it or buy it.
You can't see it, but it's the most sought after thing on earth.

If I achieve nothing else as a mother, may I teach my son how to love unconditionally.

I've never experienced anything else that comes anywhere near unconditional love.

It changes my life every day.

My first experience with unconditional love was to be blessed with a mother who loved me no matter what I did to try to make her stop. I ran away from home. I told her that I hated her. I threw her efforts to help me in her face while I struggled so hard to find myself through every self destructive act I could find.

And still, she loved me. No strings. No conditions. Need a place to stay? Come stay with me. Need a meal? Come eat with me. Need a shoulder? I've got two.

Another experience with unconditional love came with Michael. Believe me, I tried to make him stop too. In high school, I dumped him in 3 months to date someone else. Later, he saved me from a really stupid decision only to watch me fall back into self-destructive behavior over and over while he stood by my side, forgiving me for each and every thing. He even moved to another state with me to make me feel safe from the ex he helped me get away from. You know, we've never fought much, but the few times we did, I grabbed car keys and stormed off only to find that he was waiting for me when I got home.

And those were the times he didn't follow me to the car and get in asking where we were going.

We didn't know what was wrong. It was post-partum depression. It was depression. It was PTSD. It was depression again. It's Bipolar disorder.

Then, the meds. Dear God! Trying to find the right meds can be a nightmare.

All the while, I've spoken to countless people in my support group whose spouses just couldn't take it anymore, blamed them, or simply resorted to verbal abuse in their frustration, telling them what terrible people they were or how they weren't really sick.

And Mike?

"Whatever you need, honey. I'm here. We'll get through this together."

I repaid him for that by talking to someone else about how much I was a burden on him and detached so far from him that we were like strangers living in the same house.

His response when I finally told him what was going on?

"I'm not going anywhere. We'll get through this together."

I'm falling into a bit of a depression these days from a combination of inactivity made necessary by surgery and stress and money problems and parenting issues and family issues. You name it, I feel like it's piled on my shoulders, and in turn, it's doubly on his as he tries to pick up my slack. I'm irritable and have moments where I just...blow a gasket and I'm suddenly yelling, and it's not really -at- him, but he's the one I'm talking to, so it sure as hell sounds like it.

Mike?

"It's okay. I'm here. I love you. We'll get through this together."

I've watched Steve learn unconditional love.

This is a guy who never gave a damn about anyone before who actually turned down a job and nicer housing situation with an old buddy, because it would've left us financially in the lurch a while back.

Every time I expect him to announce he's moving out, he stays. And he puts up with my mood swings, my pre-teen drama king, the lack of privacy that comes with living in such a tiny place with 3 other people, and a myriad of other problems that come with life here in the last few years.

I've watched him forgive people in his family that I don't know if I could've forgiven.

One of the best lessons in unconditional love, for me, came from becoming a mom. Before I had Caedyn, I told Mike if we got to the delivery and things went wrong, please don't let me die! Two seconds after that little boy was in my arms, I knew that I'd never ever choose my own life over his again. I never would've thought that this tiny intruder on my sanity would bring about such a fierce desire to love and protect. Nothing he could ever do would make me love him less. Sure, when he does something wrong, I'm disappointed, but I think I love him more when he does. I hope it's one more lesson he can learn in the safety of childhood before he goes out into the world where the lessons are more harsh. I see how much he's like me or like Mike or "Wow! He's stumbled on something uniquely his own!", and I think how wonderful he is.

And if he spit in my face tomorrow, I'd love him all the more, because I don't know how not to.

So then, I think of my faith, and I think of the magnitude of a love that offers forgiveness to all mankind with no strings attached. It's the ultimate in unconditional love. It's the simplest message that gets screwed up and skewed and misrepresented time and again throughout history.

"For God so loved the world that He gave his only begotten son that whosoever believes on him should not perish but have everlasting life." - John 3:16 (from memory, so the punctuation's not there, but it's very late night/early morning as I write this)

There's no if's there or "so long as you" or "only if you". It's simple. It's uncomplicated. It's not affiliated with any church or organization.

So, on this day where we're celebrating the birth of His son, I want to express my utmost gratitude for the unconditional love in my life and pray that each and every one of you who reads this can experience that kind of love firsthand.

Even in the midst of a depression, it's an amazing thing. Just writing this has done so much to remind me that it's there. How neat is that?