Fear or Love?

Over the past few months, I have become an NPR addict. I used to listen from time to time, or peruse their website, but I wasn't an avid listener. For some reason, this past January, I made NPR one of the presets on my XM radio, and I very rarely change it now. Except for when my sister gets in the car and, before I can even turn the key, begs, "Can we pleeeeease not listen to NPR?!" I'm one of those people who starts every other conversation with, "You know, I was listening to NPR the other day..." and I love hour-long drives that begin on the hour, so I can catch a full show. And much like my friend Sarah, I will sit in my car outside of my destination to listen to the end of a program (or, if I'm able, I'll run inside and pull up the online XM player on my laptop). It's okay, I know I'm a nerd.

Anyway, today, I was driving to my clinical site, listening to Tell Me More, and Melissa Etheridge came on. Now, I like Melissa enough. I can sing along to a bunch of her songs when they come on the radio, and I think she's a great musician, but I've never waited in line outside of Best Buy to pick up her latest album. But this morning, I heard her say something that has been running through my head all day. In talking about her new album, Fearless Love, she said that along her journey, including a battle with breast cancer a few years ago, she has learned that "every choice we make is either love or fear, in anything, everything we do."

Love or fear. Everything we do is either love or fear.

At the exact moment I was listening to this interview, I was feeling incredibly exhausted, both mentally and physically, and reluctant to get out of the car once I got to my clinical site. But then I started thinking...if I sat in the car, I would be making the decision out of fear. Fear of initiating conversations with people I don't know, fear of saying the wrong thing or not taking advantage of the moment in a conversation, fear of failing. But if I got out of the car, I would be making the decision out of love. A love for every person inside of that facility, a love for hearing their stories, a love for ministry.

Recently, in a conversation about goals, a friend said that she never says she "will" do something, but rather that she "intends" to do something. When she says, "I will," she rarely actually does. But intentions run much deeper. It connotes an internal motivation to achieve something. For this friend, using such language helps her accomplish her goals more often. So, taking a cue from her, I intend to live and act out of love, rather than fear.

This sounds awfully nebulous, I know. Sometimes love means holding back, or it can mean saying or doing something difficult. And that can often look like fear. I know that this summer, which will continue to be filled with exhaustion, pain, emptiness, and most of all, learning, it will be difficult to push away that fear and instead choose to act out of love. But I can't help but think what a rich and joyful season this could be, should I make that conscious decision. So I will ask those with whom I spend the most time to check in on me and make sure I am not reverting to fear.

And I intend to love deeply, honestly, and often.

An Ode to Being Single on Valentine's Day

So, today is Valentine's Day. Or, as Liz Lemon would say, "a sham created by card companies to reinforce and exploit gender stereotypes." Oh Liz, you're speaking my soul.

Okay, but in all seriousness, I've chosen to not be bitter this year. Yes, I am plagued by chronic singleness. In fact, I'm really surprised this hasn't come up in my blog more often. There's no reference to the frequency with which I wallow in singlehood in my blogger tags, which is reassuring. It was hard enough in college, with acquaintance after acquaintance getting engaged (somehow, most of my close friends evaded the Ring By Spring tradition) and the ratio of single men to single women decreasing by the semester. But now, in seminary, it's even worse. Everyone. is. married. Seriously. Okay, well that's only a little bit of an exaggeration. But in reality, in my whole incoming class, there is one single, heterosexual male under the age of 30. The prospects are not promising for the few of us girls who are still unattached.

But back to today...whether it's a conspiracy started by Hallmark or a twisted holiday celebrating persecution and martyrdom or a day to really celebrate unadulterated romantic love, it can make single people feel pretty under-appreciated. Fortunately, there's also been a resurgence of viewing the holiday as an opportunity to tell everyone in your life how much you love them. This can seem like a futile attempt at glossing over the lovey-dovey nature of the holiday, but hey, since when was it a bad thing to tell people that you care about them?

If I become bitter and cynical about love, that won't help me find it. In fact, it will probably hinder the process. So I'm choosing to love love. This Valentine's Day, I do want to tell all of the people in my life that I love them and care about them (I love you and care about you). But I also want to tell all of my friends and family members who have found that very special person that I'm happy for them. Very happy, in fact. I hope you've all had an extra-special day with your sweetie, even though I know you tell each other often how much you love one another. Don't let the haters get you down (I can't believe I just wrote that), because you deserve to be happy and in love and in a beautiful, healthy relationship. I pray for your continued love and happiness, and that those of us who remain unattached can find love like you have found.


My challenge to the rest of my single ladies (and gentlemen...I hope you're all putting your hands up): embrace love, even if the romantic sort hasn't found its way to you yet. At the very least, it'll remove the black cloud that tends to loom over the day for us, right? ;]