“Showing up is a holy practice.”

These words came from Rabbi Sharon Brous, by way of a NYT article a couple of weeks ago. She reflects on a Jewish text, the Mishnah, part of the Talmud that guides the potential interpretation of Jewish law into Jewish practice. In this case, how we are called to be “other” – to step outside of ourselves and not only see the struggles others are experiencing, but to pause, to engage with, to offer – if nothing else, acknowledgement, that their pain is noticed.

This is what it means to be a community. A family. This is love in action.

Life is busy. We are busy. We have our schedules, our jobs, our own sad stories. We have our tribes, our circles, our people with whom we cry and celebrate. And it does begin there. In fact, it must begin there. The Gospels remind us: Love one another. But not just the easy ones. Even the tough ones. The ones we don’t like. The ones whose politics grate on us. The ones who perpetrate harm.

I was raised in a family where we learned, what affected one of us affects all of us. And as a parent, I was saved by the empathetic ears and arms of sisters who walked the talk, showing up with the mere acknowledgement that raising kids is hard. That losing a job is hard. That losing a husband is hard. Sharing our pain.

Do unto others…

The Golden Rule is found across faith traditions the world over. St. Ignatius, among others, is known for his insistence that love is shown in deeds.

I’ve never been much for Hallmark holidays. Give me a daily kindness as opposed to something once a year. So as we roll into Valentines’ season, I am ever-grateful for the simple, small ways Love shows up in my life.

Love is…

…not just making the bed, but vacuuming the dog hair off the comforter.

Checking my pockets for that new tube of chapstick before you do my laundry

–and not only doing the laundry, but separating the clean stuff into piles.

Sitting through one episode of Shrinking, even though you have no interest in it.

Dashing to pick up a prescription before the pharmacy closes in five minutes – and oh, by the way, can you grab some ricotta and more jam?

Walking the dog so I can write, because despite my crazy love for this oaf (the dog), two hours of personal space feels like freedom.

Leaving me to talk and talk and talk to my sisters on the phone, even when you have a question.

Eating leftovers – again- because my brainspace can’t cook tonight.

Driving me two hours out into the desert to drown in spring…

holding me as I sob, when my tough-girl muster unmusters.

 

None of this is romantic or poetic or easily gift wrapped – but it’s real and it’s everyday love.

Love is showing up.

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