I Love You

I have been told several times, by sources I trust, that I have a great love for people.

My thought response to this is usually, "Really? I don't think so... but I'm glad you do, I think. I'm sorry I'm misleading you."

I suppose it's possible that I don't know what love feels like. Wierd, I know. To me, love is a great, burning, all-consuming emotion. Occasionally I feel bits and pieces of it. Even more rarely, I feel greater portions of it, and I always thank my Heavenly Father for it.

It's possible that, in the end, love is the thing that keeps you getting up each day, that keeps you doing the laundry and cleaning the bathroom.

But that just doesn't jive with my romantic heart. "The world moves for love and kneels before it in awe." That is one of my favorite quotes from The Village. Love is such a grandiose thing... laundry doesn't quite sum it up.

I digress.

It always takes me by surprise when a friend, and even occasionally a relative, tells me they love me. My thought response is one of two things, in that scenario. Either, "Really? I hadn't thought about it..." or "Oh. I don't know what to do with that. I suppose I love you... or I should... but my love for you will never be the kneeling in awe kind. Is that bad? Do I love you? Should I love you more? Aack! I don't know what to do!"

There are different types of love, I'm sure. I just don't know how to reconcile them in myself. It doesn't help that in all reality, laundry becomes such a monumental thing in the end. If I look at all the laundry I have already done for my small family, and then add to it all the laundry I will do over the years, I would probably kneel before it in awe.

What, then, is small love? What is big love? Aack! I don't know what to do!