All you need is love...
Love till it hurts. And it will hurt…
To love at all is to be vulnerable. Love anything and your heart will be wrung and possibly broken. If you want to make sure of keeping it intact you must give it to no one, not even an animal. Wrap it carefully round with hobbies and little luxuries; avoid all entanglements. Lock it up safe in the casket or coffin of your selfishness. But in that casket, safe, dark, motionless, airless, it will change. It will not be broken; it will become unbreakable, impenetrable, irredeemable. To love is to be vulnerable.
― C.S. Lewis, The Four Loves
Today was the 40th anniversary of CBS Sunday Morning - the weekly news and features show that begins each Sunday with a very memorable trumpet solo. You may not be a fan. If you have never seen it - or if you have and found it maudlin or gauche - you may not like most of the words that will follow this paragraph.
I cannot think of a single episode of the show that I've seen that did not move me in one way or another. And, most moments that touched me also brought a tear or at least a lump in my throat.
This is a development fully presenting later in life - as most of the first half of my life I thought of myself as a thinker more than a feeler. My email address and Instagram username both include some version of thinkerdavid. Even my first Myers-Briggs personality type included T - for thinker. For those who know of these things, I was an INTJ - commonly referred to as "The Architect". For those of you that know me well, this is a moniker well deserved and reflective of most of my life and career.
But, at some point, and I'm not sure when it was exactly - something significant happened to me. The T (thinker) became an F (feeler). This might be easily explained by simply the act of living and growing older - as if personal transformation is somehow preordained. But, having watched my parents age - as well as as in-laws and outlaws - I think we can all agree that some people never change that much over their lifetimes.
I suspect that my T was actually a coping mechanism precipitated by a single event early in my life. When I was in fifth grade, my father bought a neighborhood grocery store in Nashville. And, soon after that, I began working at that store on weekends. As I got older, I worked more hours to pay for my private schooling.
But, the single event I remember so vividly occurred sometime around the ages of eleven or twelve, I think. For I was still just a wee boy, and still relatively unscarred by the external world. The day in question was a Saturday, I think, and on this day I was eating lunch with my father and some of his friends at the lunch counter at Garrett Drugs in Woodbine.
I don't remember any more specifics other than - as was common for my father - he said something hurtful (just joking he'd always say) which caused me to tear up. And, what happened next was nearly as fateful as a near-death experience - as it impacted almost as much. My father - in front of all his friends - called me a crybaby - surely every boy's nightmare. It didn't help that I was probably a "momma's boy" and very slight and small for my age. And, most of all, I was very tender hearted.
But, the outcome of this day was this - I vowed that - henceforth - I would never cry again. And, for at least the next 15 years or so - I did not. I became hard and unfeeling in those areas that would make me vulnerable or appear weak. As a hormone infused teenager, I think the only feelings I likely allowed were lust or anger. Any excitement I felt was usually related to my 1973 Mustang or music.
I did - as I think about it - allow myself to feel moved by the choral music we sang in high school and college - or by the rock and roll of Springsteen, Led Zeppelin, or Hotel California. The beginning of my returning to human emotion was mostly spurred by the music of Dan Fogelberg - whose song Along the Road can still move me to tears.
It was Fogelberg's music - romantic and sad - that led me (or mislead me) into the false idea that true love could overcome and redeem my life. And, whereas, that is a point still to be resolved by philosophers, poets and priests - I wholeheartedly believed it. It was the beginning of love - and the beginning of the deepest hurts I have ever known.
Because, if you love anything - as C.S. Lewis learned late in life - is to be broken. My love - imperfect and hopelessly idealistic - entered into a 24-year marriage that resulted in all of the heartache that was required to fully make me a tender hearted man - once again.
Pinocchio was always a mythic figure to me - as his quest to become a "real little boy" was surely my quest, as well. The wooden, unfeeling heart we both possessed needed infusing with blood and tears - and the process would not be painless for either of us.
We both learned that people are imperfect - and as much as we fear that truth and try to ignore it - that imperfection is essential to everything beautiful that has ever been painted, written or sung.
To parent 5 amazing children when - you, yourself are not much evolved beyond them - is a humbling task that will drive any chutzpah or arrogance far from your heart. If you feel and are paying attention, you will know that each child and each circumstance required so much more than you were able to provide. Each night, I prayed for God to supply whatever was needed for my lacking - which was substantial.
And through all of those years and all of those gut-wrenching tears - a new man and a new heart emerged. Surely gold is refined in the flames and steel is hardened. For me, the precious life I now am living could only have been forged in fire and steel.
You may think me overly sentimental - and you may be right. It does not matter to me. What matters more than most anything is - even if my email address is a reminder of times past - I know I am now a proud and unapologetic feeler of my feelings. I've learned that the thing I feared most - my feelings - the thing I thought made me weak and worthy of scorn - that thing is actually my treasure and my savior.
Because, unless you love - unless I love - then I am nothing more than a noisy gong or a clanging cymbal - as the apostle wrote. These words - the reason I am writing - come from feeling the deep sadness of being alive - while simultaneously- feeling the inexplicable joy of it all.
Because, it is a miracle, you know. Children, bluebirds at the feeder, even the trumpet solo announcing a Sunday TV show - are those gifts of heaven that call you to see, to hear, to feel the vibrant life that is always available.
Yes, there is such horror in this world. There are even monsters that live among us and sometimes in us. Why it has to be this way is something I do not understand - and likely was not meant to. I doubt amoebas can grasp string-theory or the human genome.
But I do know that the both the Beatles and Dr. King were completely right. Love is essential if any of this can work - and if we are ever to learn to live together on this earth.
Although I began these words with a quote from my greatest teacher, I will end it with my own words. Not as lovely, but for me at least as meaningful.
So many nights I wiped away a daughter's tears
The soft sorrow nearly broke me
Thank god I was able to adequately lie
Don't worry, honey
It's OK
Everything will be all right
And the mystery of the lie
Is that it is also true
How can we be both liar and sage
How is it that we are both broken and whole
Only the angels know
How a painful limp can
Over time become
Such a beautiful walk
https://jdavidgamble.blogspot.com/2011/12/christinas-world-at-starbucks.html
2514 Jacob Dr, Knoxville, TN, United States
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