Taking it Slow

"Go slow."
"Take your time."

This is some of the most admonished advice given to the dating divorce. And I understand it--or the intent behind it. Kids are in the picture. There's already been pain. No one wants more hurt.

But it's also a load of crap.

Time is not a guarantee. I just read a story by a pastor who was paged to a hospital ER during her CPE (Clinical Pastoral Education) while she was in seminary. A 30-year old mother lay dead on the table while here two preschool aged sons were in the next. Last year I read another story by a Midwestern writer and volunteer EMT in his small town community about being called to the scene of a fatal accident and finding it was his sister-in-law who had only recently married his brother. I'm already 41. I hope to have a long life, but there is no guarantee. And time passes more quickly than I'd like.

And none of us (speaking in generic terms on behalf of other divorced people) honestly know what going slow means anyway--other than the well-meaning warning not to get too physical. Nor do we know what guarding our hearts means either--at least not in practical terms.

I was teach the senior high Sunday school class at church today. We talked about discipleship in the ancient Hebrew setting. If a young Jewish male wasn't chosen to become a disciple of a rabbi, he went home to learn the family trade and start a family of his own by age 14 and 15. Scholars believe that Mary was likely around that age when she and Joseph raised Jesus. Did anyone tell them to take it slow?

I think the proper aphorism is to make the most of your time and use your head as well as your heart. I know there are plenty of mistakes we make when dating after divorce. I've made several. But in relationships sometimes you have to give things a try. It's a learning process of trusting your heart and your mind--and learning when to question them.

What I'm discovering is that when things are right and meant to be--when a lot of prayer goes into the relationship and God's hand is clearly at work--that you know when and how to proceed.

There is plenty of advice out there on when to take the next steps in dating--especially with children involved. And it varies quite a bit. It's all well-intentioned. It's also frustrating and confusing as you try and figure out what's best. Sometimes you can only trust God, trust the other person, and trust yourself. Which is what a good relationship needs anyway.

Stubborn Love

Several years ago at my ex-niece's (I find there are no proper names for family members who were a part of my life for almost two decades, but are not any more) wedding I was introduced to the music group The Lumineers when they played their song Ho Hey ("I belong with you, you belong with me, you're my sweetheart") in a sideshow about the groom's mom who had passed away when he was young. I've since found the raw vocals and haunting lyrics of The Lumineers poignant at many times in my life. Though I'm older than their target audience sometimes the songs feel like a soundtrack to dating as a middle-aged man.

I've made many mistakes in relationships in the past. I fully own that. Some were because of my own issues which got in the way of a health relationship, some were from poor decisions, and some were just because of blindness. But I've hurt others, and gotten hurt in the process. My sister pointed out to me recently that I'm a lover--that loving others is part of my DNA, and I desire the romantic relationship. I'm not always good with my feelings, but I'm usually pretty good at knowing love. Of course, love is less of a feeling, and more of a decision. Still, my heart is involved. And though I try and be discerning in love and who I give my heart to, I still end up with heartbreak from time to time.

Many times as a 40-year old bachelor I have wanted to give up on love. I don't want to go through more pain and hurt again. I want to avoid the tears. But eventually I come around and remember how good it feels to love another person and let them into my life.

The Lumineers' song Stubborn Love reminds me that it is better to have loved and lost than to not have loved at all:

She'll tear a hole in you, the one you can't repair
But I still love her, I don't really care

When we were young, oh, oh, we did enough
When it got cold, ooh, ooh, we bundled up
I can't be told, ah, ah, it can't be done

It's better to feel pain, than nothing at all   

The opposite of love's indifference

It's easy to become indifferent. To become apathetic. To become walled-up to avoid hurt and pain. 1 John 4:8 tells us, "There is no fear in love. But perfect love drives out fear." Fear. Indifference. Apathy. Whatever you want to call the opposite of love (I don't think it's hate--hate may be a byproduct of fear, but fear is a much fuller dark side to love).

Tennsyon penned, "'Tis better to have loved and lost than never to have loved at all." I agree. But it's also better to have loved and kept that love. But let not the pain of love lost or the fears of loves to come keep one from loving at all. Yes, there will be heartache anytime one loves another. But what is gained in loving another makes life so much richer.