The power of love

Over on Victor's blog he has written about the secrets to a successful marriage. 

When friends had their wedding blessed in Zac's recently I read the latest incarnation of my version of Corinthians chapter 13. The scripture is often read at weddings and begins Love is patient, love is kind. You may be familiar with it.

It always seems to me to be a very idealised version of love. It's the sort of love God shows to us, but our ability to love quite so perfectly is often flawed by our humanness.

The first version I wrote of it was for Daughter's wedding back in 2003 and since then I've changed bits and altered it to fit the occasion. This is what I wrote for the recent wedding blessing.

Love is patient. Even when he spills red wine on the white tablecloth - again, even then love is patient.
Love is kind. I know he’s trying to lose weight so, because love is kind, I secretly eat the chocolates I was given without mentioning them to him.
It does not envy. I am not envious when I have starved myself for a week and lost the total of half a pound while he has eaten like a horse and lost two. Not at all envious.
Love does not boast, even when Wales beat England in rugby, it doesn’t boast, not even mention it, more than once or twice.
Because love is not proud, when I beat him for the first time ever at ten pin bowling, I don’t instantly crow about this on social media. I leave it a few minutes.
Love is not rude, and never mentions balding heads or the time he spends playing video games.
Love is not self-seeking - except when it comes to Maltesers or chips.
Love is not easily angered - and I do not drive too close to the car in front!
Love keeps no record of wrongs –he’s spilled red wine on my clean tablecloths 63 times but I’m not counting. 

Love always protects
When I do my usual ‘It’s not going to rain’ and the heavens open halfway through our walk he takes me under his umbrella, and keeps me dry.

Love always trusts 
When I am sad or scared or worried he is only person I want. The one I would trust with my life.

Love always hopes 
When I say dinner’s at 6, after 43 years, he still comes into the kitchen at five to because today might be the day it is ready at 6!

Love always perseveres.
For most of forty-three years he has brought me a cup of tea in bed every morning.

He’s bossy; I’m dithery. He’s organised; I’m untidy. I’m easily distracted; he’s single-minded. He likes Terminator; I like Sense and Sensibility. He cleans his shoes; I can’t remember what colour mine are.

And yet we love each other. I know his little habits and love him for them. He knows my faults and loves me in spite of them. Love isn’t easy. It’s hard work. And it costs. Wrinkles and grey hairs the world sees; the tears and the fears it doesn’t.

Love takes effort but if you can see your own and each other’s faults and love yourself and each other in spite of them, you will understand more of the power of love.