Wednesday, February 09, 2005

What is this obsession that people my age have with 'finding the love of your life'? Or not even the one of your life, even the love of this semester. It seems to be a sub-culture that surrounds our daily lives - who likes who, who is with who, who your who was, and who your who should be. Will God tell you who, or will you just find out who? If you believe in waiting for your who, how long will you have to wait? And when will you know that you are ready for your who? And is there only one who that you're destined to be with, or do you choose your who? And when do you choose? And will the who choose back?

By now the word 'who' is starting to look very strange, but it's no more strange than the constant wondering, wishing, agonizing, confusion that we are creating for ourselves. I hear it everyday in conversation, I see it everyday in the Student Union, and I read it frequently on websites and emails. Today we battle with loneliness, and tomorrow we're ecstatic at how wonderfully single we are. Today we have a great friend, and tomorrow we wonder if they are thinking something else about us. And then we have to analyze how we feel about that possibility, when in fact it's probably nothing at all. We wonder what it means when our interest sits with someone else in chapel, or we hear that they hung out Saturday evening with so-and-so. We wait for signs from the heavens, wait for the stars to align, and usually only succeed in making up our own signs to convince ourselves of what we want.

Surely love is much bigger than this. Surely love is much more profound and deep than what we make it with our analyzing and agonizing. Love is something we must choose, not something that randomly happens to us or something we can anticipate or assume. Granted, most of us will eventually marry another individual that is somewhere in this world right now, but surely that doesn't mean we must search under every rock and tree for them. It also doesn't mean that we wait piously for them to drop from the sky into our laps. Only when we are sufficiently mature to be entrusted with the life-time privelage of another person's love should we make the decision to give such commited love. Until then, we have to stop trivializing it with our wonderings, wanderings, desires, assumptions, confusions, and theories. Though love is a mystery, it surely is not that complicated. It is a choice we make, and must continue to make every day of our lives that we are with that person. And that is certainly much more romantic than any love-at-first-sight story I have ever heard.

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