When Love Isn’t Enough

It seems foolish to even consider that this is a valid discussion. Of course love is enough. Our salvation and our future is based on God’s love for us – and our reciprocal love for Him which results in obedience. Our family and friends and most positive interactions can be considered to be based in love. Therefore, “love” must be enough. Or rather, it should be enough.

But when she says “I love him”, and he says “I love her”, and everything still goes wrong – love is not enough.

Is it that love isn’t enough, or that there’s not enough love? Well, that sounds like a long thought out dorky “line”, but it wasn’t premeditated. My thought is that if I love him and he loves me but one or neither of us loves God…there will be trouble. If I love him and he doesn’t love me…there will be trouble. If he loves me but I don’t love him “that way”…there will be trouble.

Now, must inequality in love always be trouble? I don’t think so. But, if I don’t love you enough to put you before me, then my love for you isn’t enough to overcome the life issues we will face.

I love him.
I love Jesus.
He loves me.
He doesn’t love Jesus.
There you go – love isn’t enough.


I went to school with a girl who seemed sane and wise and normal. She loved Jesus and “behaved” properly. She kinda dated one guy for a semester – very casually. She talked about it in the dorms, “He’s super sweet but I can’t see anything coming of it.” “We’re going out tonight and I’ve got a new dress – but I can’t even consider marriage really.”
The next year she didn’t date anyone.
The third year she started dating a guy a year or two younger. He was from a good Christian family, he was “a good kid”, he was motivated and mature. They “fell in love”, they married shortly after college. They had babies, they fostered children, they adopted. He decided he didn’t love her or their children as much as he loved himself and his own time and pleasures.

She’s on her own with three young kids.

Love wasn’t enough.


Another – the story starts the same. Normal girl, college, decent choices. The boy, a “bad boy” by self-proclamation. Had some issues, seemed to be serious in devotion to God, girl, and graduation. Friends for years, they married a year or two after college. They had kids, they struggled at various times with economic hardship, some birth defects in children, and others. He decided he didn’t love Jesus… They continued for years until his choice not to love extended to his wife and kids.

She’s on her own with four kids.

Love wasn’t enough.


Yet another. Same. Christian girl, Christian boy. College, time, friendship, love. More time, marriage, kid, careers. He decides he loves her enough to stay but doesn’t love Jesus or the rules or the social expectations. She carries on. They have more kids. Five years on he “gets saved” again. They’re trying to rebuild a relationship that he’s spent more than five years destroying and disrespecting and defiling. She loved him all along, she loved Jesus, he says he loved her.

She’s worse than on her own, she’s stuck with someone who she may never be able to fully trust again.

Love wasn’t enough.


I don’t know the answer here.
I’m just watching all these people – my age and younger – who relied on love (in my opinion the right kinds of love – familial, Christian, relational) and were failed by that love. In each of these cases they also had shared faith and solid backgrounds – yet even with all that, love was not enough to fulfill their futures.






What if…

What if the things you wish for while falling asleep came true?

What if the things that keep you up at 3am were resolved?

What if you could really and truly know their heart?

What if their motives were clear?

What if your mystery were defined?
What if it already is?


Magical Lifetimes

Because we live in a magical age of healing and medicine and science…
Because we live in a safe place…
Because we live in sheltered circles where emotions and behaviors and choices don’t go wrong and if they do they’re hidden away and covered up…
Because death only visits the old or the foolish or those whose death is foregone as inevitable…
I forget how easily it can all go wrong and a person can be gone. A year ago two of my family almost proved to me how much I forget.
And daily of late I’m reminded.

A friend whose mother is dying of pneumonia. Nothing else, just pneumonia. In this world of magical pills and machines and treatments – they can’t get her lungs to work.

Someone I know made a suicide attempt last week. Her daughter found her. Several of us worked and talked with her for days after and she seemed to be focused on healing. Then she started selling her things and put her house in the market. She stopped talking to us. Most of us are far away. We had to call the police for a wellness check. She was “ok” but not ok. She’s following her safety plan and isn’t alone for even a moment of the day or night. She wants to be ok but she isn’t. She could have been dead. Could still end up not making it.

All the people in our country who’ve died in the last few days.

My mind sometimes gets stuck at trying to grasp that somehow all our world full of knowledge and medicine and science and magic can’t keep someone alive. So often I feel that “they’ll be ok”, and then they are. And my belief in magic is reinforced.

But sometimes I’m reminded that there’s no magic. Just gossamer threads holding our spirits to our bodies and our bodies to this earth.


Being Alive

One of “my” babies turned 16 yesterday. It’s funny how even though his mom and I are friends on Facebook and I “know” he’s getting older, a 16th birthday sure made me feel old.


I was thinking this weekend and realizing I have cousins who are closer to 60 than to 40…and it reminded me how old I am. But some younger cousins and their babies made me just happy to be – old or not.


A year later I wonder if I’ll ever again enjoy the second half of a year.

Being Alive



A chance I was offered to publish some stuff. Like, in real life. 

I haven’t decided though. 


The dichotomy of good vs evil and the earthly rewards for living according to one or the other. I’m tired of others using less than upright means to make gain and never suffering a consequence but flaunting their gain as they pass by the plodders. Plodders just do the right thing always – and no one cares because it’s consistent and you know where they’ll be. Plodding along behind the chaos left by the ill-gotten gain of the corrupt.

I’m gonna steal a dollar from someone. 



An odd proposal I received.


How to make more time in my day!!


Just Do The Thing

Eleanor Roosevelt said to do one thing every day that scares you. Sometimes every single day scares me so I only do one thing.

The thing about fear is that it doesn’t have to be huge to be paralyzing. Sometimes a small fear can have so many repercussions that you can see everything related grinding to a halt. I get caught in that sometimes, just stewing over one thing and it ends up freezing many other areas of my life. And then of course, that snowballs until I’m doing basically nothing.

Trying to shake that off is rough! Challenging a fear, however oddly you came about it, is not easy in most cases. I’ve been chasing some fears in the last month and I *feel* some kind of magical difference – but it’s nothing anyone else can see. I guess feeling the difference is enough? Maybe. I do think I’ve been having more fun!



I rode almost two hours on the Can-Am on Saturday to visit a friend. I then rode almost two hours back again. Ouch, my shoulders hurt! It was windy plus I’m just not accustomed to driving a bike for that long. But it was fun. I would have liked it to be a bit warmer (under 70 all day), but it wasn’t too frigid for enjoyment.

And the trip was so worth it. Seeing Dorie always does my heart good, and yesterday was no exception. It’s oh so nice to have her (relatively) nearby, now. I’m already looking forward to the next time we’ve planned to spend some time together.


The Cop Who Yelled At Me

On my birthday I was driving (as I often do) and found myself at a stoplight. Before it turned green I heard a siren so waited (no car ahead of me, one car behind me) to see where the emergency vehicle was coming from/going to.  In my rear view mirror I see a police car approaching in my lane. I was in the left lane, the car in the right lane beside me had also waited to keep the intersection clear. So I watch the cop go around the car behind me, and instead of zooming through the intersection he starts wedging in between that car and my car. So now I’m having a frustrated panic attack. Because why in the world would he be coming after me when I’ve just been puttering along at the speed limit being completely legal? And with sirens!?

So I’m sitting there wondering what to do next and I hear this very loud voice. I’m not too bright so it took me a few seconds to realize what I was hearing – the police officer through his loudspeaker. It took me a few more seconds to process what he had said. Fortunately I got it all figured out quickly enough that he didn’t have to repeat himself. I would assume that an officer of the law doesn’t like to repeat himself when being out and about his business.

Anyway, “Malibu go through the intersection, White Mustang turn right and pull over” was the culmination of the excitement of my birthday driving interactions.



I’ve heard the term “snatch her bald” before. And “pinch her head off” a few times. There are also many other related terms and phrases which have sailed in and out of my awareness at various times in my life. But this past week I so wanted to just look them all up and write a scathing description of my response to how I was treated. I didn’t. I won’t. I won’t even snatch her bald the next time I see her. But someone made fun of me, rudely, within my hearing, knowing that I could hear. She knew I was still close enough to hear when I turned to walk away after taking care of something that needed to be done. She (a person older than I and who I’ve known for years, this is no stranger or teenager) commented on my intelligence, my abilities, my grasp of language, and my “place”.

I’ve contented myself with a short stewing over how much more intelligent, able, and committed I am than she. Followed by a brief imagining of going back and carefully explaining to her so much more than she could grasp just to prove my intelligence. And finally a “I’m a grown up and this isn’t supposed to bother me so I’m fine really” mantra.

But really I could still totally snatch her bald when I remember.



This morning, while her family was getting ready for Easter Sunday church, a baby girl unexpectedly died. She had been suffering for most of her life with a disease called Krabbe, but her recent prognosis indicated she had more time. More time for her family to help her experience “firsts”. More time for her family to plan their tiniest funeral. More time to hug and kiss and love her before she left.

But she died today. Happy and at home.

I’m sad for my friends.