Being in Love
When I came home from visiting a parishioner last Saturday and parked in front of our house, I noticed that our front door was wide open. Not only was our front door open but from the street I could see straight through the house to our back porch, because the back door was also wide open. I was sure we’d been robbed. I ran into the house and started calling for our sons. I knew my wife was working, but our sons were home with several of their friends when I’d left that morning. No answer. I flew up to the 3rd floor, then through each room and then finally the cellar. The house was empty. And then I realized how empty. Although nothing had been stolen – our dogs were missing. Another tour of our yard confirmed that Archie and Roscoe were gone. Had someone stolen our dogs? I love these dogs but they aren’t exactly pedigree pooches – hardly a worthwhile prize for a thief. They are strays that we collected while we were in Seminary, and MY dog, Roscoe, is about 20 pounds overweight and has the worst breath in all creation! As if that isn’t enough, his gastrointestinal disorders are a great source of entertainment to most who meet him. No, I can’t imagine robbers stealing a couple of Tennessee Mountain mutts. Could our normally responsible sons have left the doors open? BOTH DOORS?
My phone call to the boys confirmed my hunch. “Oh yeah, dad, we must have left them open. Sorry. I thought we’d closed them.” Just as I hung up the phone, two strangers drove up to the house with Archie and Roscoe, having discovered them rolling in the mud at a nearby park. After thanking God and my good Samaritans, I turned to see our two dogs prance into the house with pathetic smiles of contentment. Somehow I was in a “different place,” as they say.
By the time Bernadette got home, I had a very clever punishment devised for our sons and was eager to review the plan with my life partner. In her wisdom however, she simply dismissed the whole affair with, “Oh relax, John. The boys are just behaving like they are in love!” “Yeah right! Wandering out of the house stupidly gazing at their girlfriends, neglecting the very basics of life in a city?,” I replied, rather pleased with my comeback. “Exactly. Isn’t that why being in love is so great?,” Bernadette said with her knowing smile and then walked away.
She’s right. If we could only remember the joys of being in love – remember with whom we are in love and embrace those relationships as the precious gifts they are – then all the other details and challenges of life become much lighter. We’d be a whole lot less concerned about frivolous issues and a whole lot happier, I think. Maybe if we could remember who loves us, and how lucky we are to have anyone love us, let alone two or three people, we could live like we actually appreciate our lives. Maybe we’d leave the doors open every once in a while, but somehow that seems a small price to pay.