A Thought on the Debt of Love

A Debt of Love

      A while back, I had the honor to give back to a woman who had given to me.  To truly repay her for what she gave me in the way of time and attention and sacrifice, wasn’t possible, but I had to try. I’ve always felt that those of us who have been fortunate enough to receive the love of others have a debt to be paid. A debt of love.

     Now there are those who don’t think they owe anybody anything; that there’s no debt to repay. Perhaps that’s true, but I can’t seem to accept it.  To my parents, I certainly feel indebted, though they’d tell me I’m not, but when I think of all they’ve given I can’t help but feel that there’s a debt there.

     Then there are the myriad of others who in one way or another gave of themselves, and in the process, gave me a piece of the puzzle that was to eventually become the person I am today. Now, I’m far from perfect-anyone who knows me can attest to that-but I’m far better than I would have been had I not been given those gifts I received down through the years.

     I think of my country. This land of freedom that has given it’s men and women an opportunity to go as far as their dedication, determination and talent would take them.  I know in my heart, no other country on earth is as great. I think of those brave men and women who came so long ago in search of a new life; a life in which they could be free to worship God as they chose, and who could prosper from their own hard work. This freedom means everything, and it saddens me so many take it for granted, and fail to realize and appreciate the people who have paid for it.  How can I not feel that I owe a debt to this country, and the men and women who have served it?

     Without shame or apology, I say to everyone reading this that, I believe, we all have a debt to repay.  The sad truth is too many of us don’t feel like we owe anyone anything.  Too many of us have forgotten the things that make this country great, and the people who helped to make us what we are. To those of us who have been fortunate enough to experience the love of a parent, grandparent, or teacher, I tell you that I believe you owe a debt that must be repaid.

     It’s ironic that we live in a country so mired in debt that even our grandchildren’s children won’t be free of it, and where the majority of it’s citizens live by it’s example, and yet the most important debt we have is the one we think the least about and that’s simply to love.

     Of all the tragic things that have happened to our country, the most tragic is that we’ve failed to uphold and perpetuate the traditions and core values that have made our country the bastion of freedom it’s supposed to be.   We’ve become a nation of people who love themselves far more than they ever loved the God who guided them to it’s shores.

     Sadly, we’ve become a nation only too willing to embrace every form of wickedness.  We’ve perverted every honorable and decent thing we’ve ever done. We pay lip service to our country’s motto, “In God We Trust” but in our minds and hearts we are far from Him.  We’ve shown how willing we are to remove any and every vestige of Him, not only from our hallowed institutions, but from the very fiber of our beings as well.  We, as a country and a people, are failing to pay our debt of love by failing to honor the God we supposedly pay homage to, and by our failure to live by the example of His Son.

     I wonder how long we can afford to do so.

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The Best Decision I Ever Made

        Hands down, marrying Tracey was the absolute best decision I ever made, but during that first few days after proposing to her over the internet I thought I’d made the worst mistake of my life.  The range of my thoughts went from, “Are you completely out of your _____ mind,” to “What woman in her right mind is going to accept a proposal of marrrige to somebody she’s never even met.”   It was enough to make me question my sobriety, not to mention other things.

     If that weren’t enough to make me have some sleepless nights, add to the previously mentioned, these two thoughts: 1  Any man, with a half-a brain-cell more than yours truly, knows that it takes a serious lack of intellect not to make a proposal to the one he loves face to face.  2. Said man, making such a proposal smacks of desperation, low self-esteem, and too many other adjectives to mention. 

     As I said there were many thoughts that passed through my mind, but the overriding one among them all was wondering what Tracey looked like.  I know fine time to be wondering what the woman you’ve just proposed to looks like, but that was how it was.  Anybody who has read back over my past posts knows that I’m a little slow in coming to things, and as this post proves a little backward, too.  It didn’t help that my grandma, a very onery and not what you’d call politically correct, sort of woman who had a habit of saying exactly what was on her mind ( and you never knew what was on it) blurted out, “I hope Denny’s finance isn’t black” during her and my grandpa’s 50th anniversary party!   To this day, I don’t know how she found out, although I have a feeling my mother let it out (she swears she didn’t).

     The only thing I can say is you can choose your friends, but not your relatives.  My grandma was a fiesty, firey, spit-in-your-eye, sometimes bigoted, over-the-top kind of person, but she was who she was, and I never heard her apologize for it.  I loved her undoubtedly, but agreed with her rarely, and through the grace of God failed to inherit her uncharitable views toward others.  It’s my hope that I haven’t offended anyone in writing about this most embarrassing thing that happened, but that’s what happened. 

     If I hadn’t already been spending an inordinate amount of time thinking about Tracey, I was really thinking about it now.  What if she was a different race?  One after another “What if’s ” went through my mind.  Even as I’m writing this I can see how it might look and sound to those reading this, but I can’t deny that’s how it was.  I came to each of those questions, and through prayer, and time, and determination to follow what I felt in my heart I kept going forward. 

     The following Monday morning at 11:00 a.m. I went to the bus station to meet my finance, and was it a meeting I’ll never forget?  You’ll have to read the next one to find out.