The Cracks That Make Us Whole

Love is imperfect. It is the sharing of love that makes it whole. I’d like to say that my love for my husband is perfect, but there are many things through our history that make it feel like others are looking through shattered glass. My love for my kids also has the same appearance. Amazingly enough, when you view the big picture, it looks whole.  And for a good reason. 

Where would I be without these great people to write about? In some corporate office, ruling people’s lives, making them miserable, ordering takeout, and living alone for $50,000-75,000 a year?  Instead, I get to do it for free. My house feels crazy all the time, especially when I try to instill order. I feel like the one person in the house that no one listens to. But where would I be without them? 

I know. I’ve been there. It’s a fishing trip, where you pull in the biggest fish you’ve ever seen, with only your dog to witness it. It’s a beautifully clean house with no one to walk through and mess it up or appreciate it: the clean or the house. Yes, when I say my house is wrecked, perhaps it’s wrecked for the good of my soul. 

It’s a place where my kids are kids, learning responsibility and respect that good parents give. It’s the place that my husband comes home to enjoy the crazy after a quiet day. He loves it… God love him…. Because he truly does enjoy it and our life together. 

As a stay at home parent, I sometimes loathe the smile of bliss that comes home with my husband. Then I realize that he just loves to come home to our family, to the crazy, that I take for granted. How humbling, when I think that I am so much smarter than that. He loves to come home and be my hero every day. Who could ask for more than that? 

Is there more? I tried to take a picture of some earrings that were given to me out of love. I could not acquire the supermodel look that my friends do on their blogs. Is it enough? It is. Because the love that came from that work of art was worth displaying. My mom worked hard to make the person that I am to display that art. It may not be the Facebook quality we all want or wish to present, but it is me. It is the person my mom raised and loves and is proud of too. It's the person that my friend wished to grace with her talent.

That man of mine, who comes home to the crazy is only looking for me, for my love, for my approval, my appreciation. He doesn’t care that I’ve gained weight, or didn’t do the dishes… he just wants to come home…. to us, in our imperfect state, because together, we make it whole. 

That should be enough for me. For someone to love me so much that they don't look at the tiny cracks in the picture or the character, that make up me. I saw those cracks in the kid who resembles me the most today. It inspired me to take a different route, perhaps the same route that my mom took with me. Love is a bridge, it makes the impossible seem possible. It brings reason to an unreasonable situation. It comforts, it heals and it sustains.

It makes my relationship with my mom stronger, as I understand so much more what she went through raising me. It makes the love for my husband grow, because I'm not sure anyone could love me as much as my own parents, and appreciate the quirks that came from that, more. Love isn't perfect, it's just pieces put together.