I say love will come to you
Hoping just because I spoke the words that they’re true
As if I offered up a crystal ball to look through
Where theres now one there will be two
–Indigo Girls

Two and a half years ago I sat outside in the spring sunshine, talking to my friend Anne on the telephone.  It had been a few months since Juan had moved out and while I was still reeling and sad much of the time I also had come to the point where I knew I would survive.  I remember telling her that I was certain I would be fine, and in time I knew would be more than fine–I would be happy again.  But I told her emphatically that I was quite certain that I would never fall in love again.  It seemed like too big of a risk, too hard, too difficult.  I just couldn’t imagine opening up my heart again.  It just didn’t seem possible.  I didn’t believe I could do it, or that I would even want it.

After 20 years of friendship, Anne knows me better than I know myself.  She gently told me that while she respected my feelings at the moment she also was certain that I would fall in love again.  Not because she wanted to play the role of Polly Anna in my life–and not because she wanted to make me feel better.  But simply because I am that kind of person–a person who loves, an optimist and a person who needs to connect.  I was soothed by her words, even if I didn’t entirely buy them.  At least one of us had faith that I wouldn’t end up the neighborhood eccentric with 20 cats.

For the first year Juan was gone I spent most of it enveloped in magical thinking–hoping and praying that our marriage would repair itself and we would end up together again.  There was the marriage counseling and the “date nights” and the other rituals that really, looking back on it were more like hospice care for a dying relationship.  They gave me false hope and kept me believing that we had a chance.  If I was truly honest with myself I saw it for what it was, but I wasn’t ready to be honest with myself.  Not yet.

The second year after Juan left I struggled with coming to terms with the fact he was really  gone from our life–and all the ramifications of that for Max and I.  There were financial matters to deal with, emotional matters, practical matters like who would do drop off and pick up from school now that I was no longer trying to give him the space he needed to come home.  There was so much work to be done around establishing rules that made Max feel safe and would protect him from disappointment.  About establishing predicatability for him.  There was seemingly impossible work to do trying to be both mother and father–to parent by myself.  To pay the bills, take out the garbage and get dinner on the table.  To have a reasonably clean home, to have reasonable routines  To stay reasonably healthy.   To be reasonable.

During those two years it took all I had just to accomplish that little bit.  There was no energy left for the work of opening my heart.  I think that work started last January, really, one cold brilliant night when the moon shone over the icey park.  It was then when I started listening to my heart and what it needed.  When I decided that working, and feeding Max and surviving from day to day were not enough for me.  It was late that moonlit night and on many more thereafter that I realized that I had been handed a great big opportunity and gift in this separation–a chance to really explore my life, my passions and to follow long lost dreams–the ones that had fallen by the roadside a long time ago.

To be honest, I didn’t go about that work with the intention of breaking open the walls I had built around my heart.  No–I simply wanted to live.  But by golly, looking back I can see now that it was 1990 in Berlin.  Simply by thinking and acting from my heart, I was making ready to open her up again.  Because in the practice of being true to my heart, I saw that really there was no way around it– I am that kind of person…a person who loves.  Its what I do.  Its who I am.

That work is still in process.  And indeed, my community, my friends and my little neighborhood family have given me enough space to exercise my heart.  Love is really all around me, every day.  I felt it as Eric and Jackie and their kids stood in my kitchen making pretzels.  I felt it as I waved to the neighbors across the street.  I felt it as I ate a pre-Thanksgiving dinner at Stephen and Marilyn’s house last week.  It really is enough.  And I am more than happy…I am truly content.

But still,  I am starting to believe that maybe…just maybe…Anne might have been right.  Not just about loving…but about falling in love.  In fact I am certain of it. 

Just to be clear –its not that I have met anyone dreamy–and in fact I am not actively looking (really).  But in the last few weeks I just feel it in my bones and yes in my heart (where it matters most).  I know it as certainly as I know my name.  I felt it today, a deep comforting sigh, as I stretched into yoga poses during class-those spinal twists and backbends that always seem to loosen something up for me in the heart center.  “No need to worry about this one,” my inner voice whispered.  “Its covered.”

I can’t say exactly why I feel so strongly and so at peace about it.  But as I eased myself into bridge pose, only two words came to mind, words that I can’t shake.  “At last.” 

At last.

2 Responses to “Love will come to you”

  1. Jena Strong Says:

    This is beautiful. The clarity of that inner voice cannot be mistaken. It is such a gift.


  2. Jen Ballantyne Says:

    I truly believe you will find love again too Meg. Even though I have only ‘met’ you on line, I know you are a loving person and you will attract love into your life. I am so very glad that you can sense it and you are willing to allow it in.