“I cry out: ‘Lord, have I not been humbled enough?’ And the Lord Answers: ‘No.’”

At various personal crises, I have wondered when I will finally be done with being humbled.  “Surely this time is the last time for that particular lesson,” I think in exasperated tones.  When I was younger, my mom was there to talk to when something happened – the loss of a loved one, the ending of a personal relationship, a miscarriage, change in jobs or careers, and so on.  Her counsel was a comfort, even when I did not heed it.  After she died, I was on my own.  I cast about, talking to others I expected might offer counsel, but was rebuffed by them.  Most were simply not interested in discussing loss, were too busy with their own lives, felt no professional obligation to discuss the matter, or otherwise preferred a different topic of conversation.  My mom would have been there, but she was not.  It was a great humbling experience to be alone at such a difficult place.

The year following my mom’s death, however, saw a great re-ordering of my life, as I left one law practice to truly be on my own, and worked in earnest to transition to a career in teaching, ultimately leading to my appointment as assistant professor at the Community College of Baltimore County, where I presently teach law.

I remember talking with one of my college professors, Timothy App, about his experience with painting.  He recalled making a breakthrough in his work and producing the start of an important body of work after many years of challenges and difficulties.  He remarked that his instinct was to take a vacation and bask in arriving at this beginning.  But his lesson was that taking a break then was absolutely the wrong choice; the breakthrough for him was the beginning rather than the end of the hard work.

Love is not merely a destination or a status. It is hard work, difficult choices, failure, forgiveness, desolation, salvation, inexorable, sustenance.

Love is a lifelong commitment to being humbled, picking yourself up and dusting yourself off, and continuing.  We are cast headlong into the dark night like an arrow always aimed precisely at a single bullseye.  Waiver and spin as we might, resisted by the air, pulled down by gravity, but our path is constant, quick and certain.  Love we must, aimed expertly by another.

I do not wish to die but over death we have no human control.  I do not wish to suffer but my suffering may ultimately be rooted in my own choices in my life.  I wish to be happy, and the path of happiness is paved with love.  I am a soldier for love.  My end is certain but I may not waiver or tarry long on any single wound.  “I have miles to go before I sleep.”