“Love should be seen as something which in a sense never ‘is’ but is always only ‘becoming,’ and what it becomes depends upon the contribution of both persons and the depth of their commitment.”

Pope St. John Paul II

Is that what love always appears to be? As far as we are concerned in our home, my wife and I see ourselves as being charged with a lifelong project of bringing out the best in each other. Do we succeed? Sometimes. The rest of the time make would for an even more colorful blog post, but I believe that also will remain an unseen, ever evolving thing.

I will be sharing another poem. And while some of the material comes from a marriage fully in the process of becoming something more holy, much of the following also springs from my own lively imagination. The title (seen above) comes from a response typically given to a compliment one of us pays to the other. When it comes to marriage, there are no magic bullets, no quick fixes, but there is always hope. And when Christ is at the heart of a marriage, the possibilities for holiness are literally endless. So with all the imperfections firmly intact, please enjoy, Me Too,You:

Old light from the stars above my head wink at me as everywhere:

I see the twinkle of your eyes, brighter than the sun.

And slowly the passage of time pulls at the old man inside me,

weaning me away from that codger who duped me one too many

times in the past. Wasn’t it unremitting positivity that that imbued me with

new life when we first met? And is there nothing that does not amaze you

about me? I shake my head and I whisper, “I love you,” and forgive myself

for being so shortsighted about not seeing how God could bring forth something

beautiful out of nothing (again). After all, He’s been doing it forever!

An endless litany of well worn adjectives are applied between us by each

other, to each other, about each other, for the express purpose of reigniting

the glow in the eye of the other, the peals of resounding laughter following

the shared joke. Immediately we are confirmed in the holy suspicion that

God really did create that other person “just for me.” Paradise is not far behind.

The applied embrace is the result of the inexplicable, totally predictable magnetic

forces that cause us to ring like bells as we find ourselves bumping into each other

(again). I wonder if such “violence” can ever be sanctioned?

Resistance is truly futile and fertile for further romance.

I have been pleased to many impromptu concerts from you, my spontaneous

musician. It should be a self-evident truth that there is no sound like that

wawa improvisation of yours. And how uncanny! There is life beyond the management

of air that you do – so surreal and sweet! Smiles and laughter are, once again,

inescapable every time you air out that finely tuned instrument of yours. And no song,

however popular and strong, is quite as storm-bringing unless you apply your

no-holds-barred attack, emanating as it does from between those lips of yours.

It bears repeating: I wa-wa-want to hear that song before too long. It stuns

me to silence; your art without artifice, my dear. You being me rock, and I can’t get

enough of that heavenly sound!

Seeing you, I see me. And in the seeing is more believing than I ever thought was

possible. The glee that fills your eyes has been the salve that banishes all my diseases.

No more haunted nights and humdrum days for me! I can’t ignore the melody inside,

and that perpetual time has etched forever upon my mind’s eye the ineffable

beingness of you. As a result, life does not hurt anymore. My ‘thank you’ shall be a life

lived in close proximity to you and with all the stops pulled out. We will advance

upon our knees.