How do I love thee?

Love is difficult.

I don't love love.  If it were easy (is it for anyone? tell me your secret!), I am positive I would love it.  But it's not, and so I don't.

I was thinking of the poem by Elizabeth Barrett Browning titled "How Do I Love Thee?" and chewing over the words.  Join me (and don't forget to read it aloud, just above a whisper, and with dramatic pauses...British accent is optional):


How do I love thee? Let me count the ways.
I love thee to the depth and breadth and height
My soul can reach, when feeling out of sight
For the ends of Being and ideal Grace.
I love thee to the level of every day's
Most quiet need, by sun and candlelight.
I love thee freely, as men strive for Right;
I love thee purely, as they turn from Praise.
I love with a passion put to use
In my old griefs, and with my childhood's faith.
I love thee with a love I seemed to lose
With my lost saints, I love thee with the breath,
Smiles, tears, of all my life! and, if God choose,
I shall but love thee better after death.

If only these words were true for flawed and destined-for-failure mortals like myself.  I'm comforted by knowing and experiencing God's vast love for me; however, the complexities of love arise for this human when I try to extend that same love towards other people like me: very needy, often annoying, and discontent people.

In fact, if I were to rewrite this sonnet in my honest-to-goodness words of what SOME people think (not necessarily me in particular), it would go something like this:

You think I love thee? I can pretend for days.
I'll try to "love" thee until you're at least out of sight
Because my soul can't reach your expectation's height
For Pete's sake, give me some grace!
If I loved thee, you'd be mine always
Most of us know though, you're prone to flight.
If you let me love freely, I'd know wrong from right;
If you loved me purely, I'd give nothing but praise.
But my passion has become anger that I use:
I wallow in my griefs, and have lost my faith.
Oh how I wish I loved thee with a love that I could lose.
With all the hopeless saints, who love with the breath,
I see no smiles, only tears, why would this they choose?
No, I shall not love thee, not even upon death.


I'm so glad that this isn't the type of love that God has toward us; and I hope that my human attempts at love come out a little better than this dire prose that I composed quite ruthlessly.  But as I grow, I learn that I need LOVE more and more.  The real kicker is that love is more difficult as I grow up.

My goal is to study God's love and transform my human tendencies of warped love to become pure like His.  Join me in this quest, keep me accountable, and help me remain authentic.