Lock Your Heart

You can't choose who you love, but choose who you don't love. Measure love carefully. Never give too much.

There are always rules about whom we love and how. There have always been rules, since Eve loved Adam, and Adam loved Eve, and I don't know who loved whom first and I don't care. The rules, I understand. But the rules are not about how much love we give, or how freely. The rules are about the manner of expression. A parent may discipline. A married couple may express themselves sexually. A courting couple enacts romance. A child hugs and kisses. A student listens. A peer offers constructive criticism. Anyone may give gifts, or smiles, or compliments.

Quick study: if you had the money, to whom would you give a car? A parent? Certainly! Spouse? Child? Neighbor? . . . when would giving a car be a really bad idea? And there are very clear rules about when it's not okay to receive or give lavish gifts, regardless of the financial circumstance of the giver. And some situations where it might be totally unclear where stands the line.

Don't discipline your roommates.

Don't hug a cactus.

Don't F*** Your Students. (It's my teaching motto, coined by a dear tutor one breathtaking Summer evening of really awkward conversation. He meant it literally, but since it's never been an issue, I stick with the metaphorical interpretation).

My problem is not that I want to love in appropriately, but that I measure my love. I watch it carefully to make sure I don't give too much, like Forgiveness Flour. I love in fear that I worship an idol. My God is a jealous God, but not for love, only for obedience. He fills me with love, and I hold it like a crooked stream, and it swirls and swirls and stagnates.

How many words do we have for "love"?

"I like you, but I don't love you."

"Love your enemy."

"The love which dare not speak its name."

"Love you, Mum."

"OMG! Love it!

"Love thy neighbor."

"Serve God, Love me, and mend."

"All you need is love."

"Love, peace, and chicken grease."

"City of brotherly love."

"Charity is the pure love of Christ."

Meanings, we have millions, but words? Just one. You can substitute near-synonyms, or examine the etymology of each discursive iteration, tracing it back to some Greek root or other. They had more words. 

To some, my challenge might seem a gift: to choose whom I love. They find themselves at the mercy of their heart, or internal chemistry, or disposition. They fall in love, and they can't help it, and life is pain. But my measuring is not the answer. Not loving is not the answer. Being a stingy little reservoir does not warm anyone's heart. Love everyone with all your heart. Love your enemy. Love those who think you are their enemy. Love your neighbor. Love your abusive ex-boyfriend. But use your heart valves and blood valves. Lock your Heart. Keep the oxygen where it should be, and the blood pumping in the right direction. Forgive the abusive ex, but don't let him near your heart (or house) again. Don't date a married man. Don't give a four-year-old constructive criticism on her art technique (four-year-olds are NOT realists). Don't enable users. And don't stop loving them. Love, like manna, comes every day but if you try to save it, it will spoil. Eat it. There will always be more love when you're in need. And remember. . . 

(Trailers are SO SPOILERY!)