The Love That Needs No Name
The word “love” is pervasive in our culture. We love ice cream, the color purple, our car, our dog, our bright yellow rain boots. We love Netflix or Amazon Prime, or Hulu.
So when I got married I asked my husband, a European not used to expressing his emotions, if he would write me a love letter for Valentine’s Day. I did not want flowers, or chocolates, or a sweater. Just a simple letter saying he loved me. I was surprised by the result.
After breakfast, we sat at our desks and wrote. My letter of love flew off the end of my pen in a few minutes – two burbling pages of love. Ernest spent all morning at his desk, retreating back into his room after lunch to finish his letter.
The big reveal came at teatime. I had gone to Andre’s and bought his favorite pastry – Dobosh torte. We had a little Tokaii wine and a very nice oolong tea.
I went first, reading what I thought was an impressive epistle of love. Ernest listened stoically, silently. Then, a little embarrassed, he read his love note – four short sentences. Not once did the word love appear.
I tried to hide my disappointment, but eventually blurted out, “But you didn’t say you loved me.”
My husband was hurt. “But every word in the letter says I love you,” he explained, desperately.
He stomped up stairs and came down in only a few minutes with a new letter – also about four lines long, but containing the required word, love.
Reading silently, I blushed, chastened. Ernest was right – the letter that he had agonized over for hours had indeed been an epistle of love. It was a masterpiece, a true billet-doux.
I apologized and did that 20th C American thing – I kissed him and said I loved him!
Benediction
Benjamin greeted me at the door this evening.
(Ah, the sincerity of a four year old’s kiss,
the warmth of a four year old’s embrace!)
He must have felt as I did
the caress of the spring wind.
He must have smelt as I did
the delicate scent of the spring blossoms.
He must have heard as I did
the gentle cooing of the mourning doves.
I stepped out into the sunset
Looking for God’s benediction-
And Benjamin kissed me.
Sheelagh Hope
So true! Love is an action far more than it is a word. Words can be lies: true love is felt, not seen or heard.
Thanks for checking in. I really like the ””true love is felt” but sometimes I think we see it in people’s eyes or voices. A matter of cadence and melody with the voice, a matter of eyes very open and deep with sight. But for the day to day, true love is for me, indeed an action or behavior.
I saw a really warming thing on TV the other night. A man wanted to propose to his girlfriend but thought the word “love” was too small, too common. He searched and searched and finally decided the word for his love of her was her name!! HE proposed to her at an event in which he said, and sang her name in exchange for the word LOVE> She was of course overwhelmed and the audience went nuts!! So powerful.
Matthew shows me he loves every morning when he brings me tea in bed. He never need say the word, I know.
That for me is the closest one can get to someone – a deep understanding that you are loved. Thanks for sharing, Cheryl.