Love... ?

NOTHING is so beautiful as spring—
  When weeds, in wheels, shoot long and lovely and lush;
  Thrush’s eggs look little low heavens, and thrush
Through the echoing timber does so rinse and wring
The ear, it strikes like lightnings to hear him sing;

“Spring” Hopkins



Nothing is so beautiful as Spring.. Is anything so wonderful as falling in love? We are made for love by the God who is love. It is the goal of creation.

I was surprised at myself asking this as I walked home the other night. And then I realised that I never really think about being in love unless I am falling in love. I am not falling in love, so I thought I would think about it before I do. After all, I will be allowed to date shortly.


It is so easy to be pessimistic about love especially when there are lots of freshmen couples who are clueless to what is infatuation vs true love... One can begin to doubt whether “True Love” is only another Utopia. (but then who does know what it means to love someone until we are on the other side of the door?)

There is something very wonderful about those first time when you begin to realise that you are in love and when that love is returned. “Nothing is so beautiful as Spring” That is the spring of relationships. It is happening all over the place, and our culture celebrates it. It is something to be celebrated, but perhaps we have tried to make relationships always spring and never grow into summer, fall and winter. I hope that I can be in love with my husband all married life, but I also hope that I will not become a glutton and fear winter. Without winter in Manitoba I would never have learned to appreciate the colour and smell of the fresh earth. It is very sad if our culture as a whole dreads the winter of love because it does not allow our experience to grow and become.

But this is not a lament. I simply want to say that there is something beautiful in falling in love. And even if it means more disappointment and more scars on my heart I look forward to it, and I love to see it.

NOTHING is so beautiful as spring—
  When weeds, in wheels, shoot long and lovely and lush;
  Thrush’s eggs look little low heavens, and thrush
Through the echoing timber does so rinse and wring
The ear, it strikes like lightnings to hear him sing;
The glassy peartree leaves and blooms, they brush
  The descending blue; that blue is all in a rush
With richness; the racing lambs too have fair their fling.

What is all this juice and all this joy?
  A strain of the earth’s sweet being in the beginning        
In Eden garden.—Have, get, before it cloy,
  Before it cloud, Christ, lord, and sour with sinning,
Innocent mind and Mayday in girl and boy,
  Most, O maid’s child, thy choice and worthy the winning