Words in Action

When I was in a high school, a very wise friend gave me some advice.  I didn't realize that my friend was so wise until much later, after we had grown up and apart.  On one occasion, my friend and I were sitting around philosophizing about life and faith and love and all things of utmost importance to an adolescent.  (Mind you, this fellow was a boy and a friend, but not my "boyfriend.")  I complained that my parents never discuss major life issues and that all they ever talk about are mundane, household things.  My friend said, "They don't have to talk about life.  They probably have done that already or don't bother you with it.  Besides, your parents are in love.  They show it instead of talk about it."  I didn't believe him at the time, but now I live it. 

At some point early in my marriage, I realized that we were wasting money on food that would spoil.  My husband loves to drink orange juice, which led me to believe that he must enjoy the whole fruit as well.  If I found a good sale on oranges and bought a huge bag, I couldn't eat them all and I never saw him take any out.  This happened a few times, and occasionally I would remind him that he should eat some of the fruit.  He would agree in theory, but not in action.  I don't remember when it happened, but somewhere along the way, I asked him if he would eat an orange if I peeled it for him.  He consented, so I tended to the fruit on his behalf.  The memories rushed back.  When I was growing up, my parents would often buy grapefruits.  Dad would sit at the kitchen table and peel grapefruits, doling out sections to small bowls.  My sister and I would help ourselves, covering the grapefruit sections with honey and devouring the treat.  As a child, I never gave one thought to the labor that my father poured into that offering.  Peeling a grapefruit without eating any of it can be a tedious task.  So, there I was as an adult, administering a similar attention to peeling, separating, and freeing the orange sections for my husband.  Years later, we can easily share a bag of oranges, all of which are painstakingly and lovingly peeled by me.  Sometimes I ask him in advance, but often I just go ahead and peel an orange for him as a surprise.

I don't want to leave you thinking that ours is a relationship without balance. This winter, when I was at home recuperating from surgery, my husband had filled a kitchen cabinet with cans of hearty soups to keep us warm and nourish me back to health.  (If I had been feeling well, I would have been making homemade soups.)  One afternoon, I was looking for something to eat for lunch and my husband said, "We have a whole cabinet of soup."  My response must have sounded ridiculous: "I don't like soup if I heat it up from a can."  Somehow, I managed to explain that I like homemade soup and I like soup that is served to me, but the magic is lost if I look at the soup in the can.  "What's the difference?" my husband asked.  I just looked at him and said, "You know how you like oranges, but you won't peel them yourself? That's how I feel about soup."  Without any further discussion, my husband picked out a can of soup and poured it into a small pot on the stove to heat it up for me.  He did that again for me several times over the following weeks.

My classmate was absolutely right. You don't have to talk about love and life if you live it.