Just over a month ago, I went to have my eyes checked. Turns out, in addition to needing a change to my lenses and very nearly needing reading glasses, I have really dry eyes. My tears aren’t up to the job, apparently. So I now have two sets of pills to remember to take and eye drops. Or eye gel as it says on the pack.
The eye gel is supposed to be three to four times a day. That doesn’t happen. And then I forgot to refill the prescription, so long story short, if you put eye gel that has expired in your eyes, it really stings. Also, when you have been using eye gel and you stop, it’s like your eyes are being stabbed with teeny tiny razor blades all the time, and you find yourself thinking “But it never used to hurt this much.”
Which got me thinking. Because sometimes we can be like that with love. We can be all dried up and wrinkly and not realising that love is something missing from our lives. And then something happens, and we are richly drowning in love – not that smushy romantic movie kind of love, but the kind that really makes a difference. The wash your dishes when you’re ill kind. The accepting that you’re different but not letting that be an excuse for bad behaviour kind. Hard working, hard wearing, generously applied. Like tears are supposed to be. Making it easier to see – all that is both good and bad in the world.
But then, we get lazy. Or offended. Or whatever. And the love stops. And the equivalent of the eyes drying up happens. And it hurts like crazy. And what do we say? I tell you what we tend to say – “Oh, well, it’s love’s fault. If I hadn’t loved, I wouldn’t be hurting now.” And then we go back to wrinkly glary lives, where we can’t see anything if the sun shines too brightly.
Let’s live lives abounding in love – not just occasionally standing under a waterfall, but generously, frequently, applying love wherever and whenever we can.