Love and Bullets and Happy Holidays

Gun club

I once had a dream when I was pregnant that someone tried to harm my child, so I bludgeoned him to death with a club.

My pregnancy dreams were notoriously violent.

As the holidays approach, I tend to think about the people I love, those I can hold tightly and those I’ve had to let go–and ponder this nebulous feeling/idea/emotion: love.

We need more words for ‘love’ in the English language because one pitiful monosyllabic word cannot possibly encompass all aspects of it.

It is ferocious and wise; unwavering and temperamental; it is boisterous and quiet; fragile and strong; ferocious and gentle; it is rapturous and painful.

In my life lately, love seems to be mostly painful.

However, I’ve learned a valuable lesson because of it: to truly love a person, you need to love them exactly as they are.

If you can look at a person packaged in all their ‘faults’ (or things you perceive as faults) and not only take a bullet for them, but also grab the gun and beat the perp until he can’t stand up, then you are loving someone unconditionally.

But what happens if someone you love wouldn’t take a bullet for you–and you both know it? Or worse yet, what if YOU get tired of taking bullets?

I wish I had an answer for this.

Love CAN be the thing that makes you walk on air. I understand this intellectually, but currently, I can’t envision it.

The only thing I can do is to put on the kevlar and go out and keep loving and being loved where I can.

No matter what.

My kids love me fiercely; and I can’t think of tougher friends than the ones I’ve made at Crossfit–not just physically (though they WOULD be handy in a fistfight or zombie apocalypse) but it also takes that certain mindset, which motivates you to stand up when the weight is so heavy it bruises your shoulders. These kinds of friends love the real, honest me–and they never ask for what I can’t give. Now that’s unconditional love.

If you are blessed enough to be with people this holiday season who would take bullets for you and/or beat someone to death for you, wrap yourself up in it until the painful, achey kind of love subsides.

I wish you a happy holiday. 

Joy.

Love.

Peace (if applicable).

And friends who kick ass.

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About crossfittermama

Crossfitter, marathon runner, author, gypsy mama of 4 fantastic kids, gluten-free, veggie-maniac, world-school curriculum developer, who aspires to write a best-seller, train her wayward young labrador, and run mountain marathons and ultras, in her spare time. View all posts by crossfittermama

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