Love takes a thousand forms. It might be the cookies waiting on the counter when you get home from school, the supper kept warm for you when the road took longer than you expected. It is in the encouraging words shared in the long hours of darkness and in the quick comment of a good job well done. It is the caring, the calling, the waiting and watching when loved one’s lives hang in the balance of surgery and others’ care.
It is also in the repetition of daily duties done over and over and over again, love keeping food on the table and a roof overhead. It is in patience and practice, in holding on when all sense of reason seems to say there is no hope. It is in prayer and giving, in living alongside someone else and in taking up the slack when another’s hands can no longer hold their own weight.
It is in visits and trips, in sharing, in late nights talking on the porch and long walks taken together. It is cleaning out the closet or the six tons of stuff in an old basement or garage. Love rolls up its sleeves and gets dirty. It packs and carries, sorts and stacks. It sweeps and scoops, picks up the last loose piece of scrap from the floor.
Yes, love takes a thousand forms. But it must take form of some kind. Love unshown is love unknown.