My First Love

Every day I go through trials, I think we all do. Whether it's a thought that pops into my head and pesters me until I'm upset, or a decision (big or small) that I have to make, or just an emotion that makes me respond with less love than I should. Every single day these types of things happen.

Some days it's easy to breeze through, trials or no, and enjoy the day. Others, it's all I can do to pull myself through the mud and make it to the safety of my bed and sleep that night. Each day could be exactly the same, and each morning I could wake up and handle the same set of trials differently.

Lately, I've been asking myself a lot, Why are some days so easy, and some days so hard? I never think I have things figured out, I know that I'll always be changing my mind, and my ideas, and my conclusions, but this one...I feel like it's the one thing I can always be sure of.

The easy days, the days when I can have negative thoughts and just brush them away like dust on a tabletop, are the days when I've been reminded that there are greater things than myself. That love trumps any trial, any tribulation, any irritant I may face. I see that love from my husband, from my friends, from my parents, my brother...I see that love all around me, and on days when I'm aware of it, consciously thinking about it, it's easy to stride through the difficult patches and maintain a sense of calm, and even a sense of joy.

The hard days, the days when those negative thoughts and emotions eat away at me like acid, those are the days when I've forgotten to look past myself. When I've forgotten the awesome power of love.

As I said, I see love in my husband, family, and friends, but I know that they're not the source of this love. This isn't meant to diminish the roll they play. Without them, it would be much harder to see it, to feel it, but they aren't the source. The source of that love that saves me every single time I encounter it is Jesus.

I've been married almost a year, and it's very, very easy for me to get wrapped up in the love I have for my husband, and in the love he has for me. So wrapped up, in fact, that I tend to lose sight of the source of that love. Before Vince was in my life, Jesus was there, and He poured His love out on me from so many different sources.

I don't want to forget about my first love, but I often do. I want to live with the intention of sharing that love with everyone I encounter. I want to remember that He loved me first, because when I remember that, it makes the trials I face, if not easier all around, at least easier to handle emotionally and mentally. I want to have my first love on my mind and on my heart all the time, because intentionally holding Him close pushes me to intentionally love more--to love my husband more, my parents, my brother, my friends, people I meet at the coffee shop, at the grocery store, the guy who cuts me off in traffic, or the guy who calls and leaves nasty voicemails--holding Jesus close and intentionally thinking about what that means keeps me in the frame of mind of the person I want to be.

My first love, my Jesus, pushes me to love bigger. He pushes me to stretch what I think I know about the world, about people, and to see things differently. He pushes me to keep myself in check, and not to fall into the trap of thinking that, because I love Him, that I'm always right (on the contrary, this pushes me to see that because I love Him, and He loves me, it's OK to be wrong, and He'll help me when I am).

Before I was married, Jesus was my husband. Now, he's the glue that holds my marriage together and keeps it strong. Since I left home to go to college, Jesus has been my father and my mother when I couldn't be with my actual mom and dad. When I'm homesick, he's always right there with me. When I'm sad, Jesus is my joy. He shows me every time how to find joy in sadness, and how to find light in the dark. Always, Jesus is my hero, and always, Jesus is my first love.