This enigmatic force is one of the most desired, chased after human experiences, in the last hundred years or so. It’s a relatively new concept in its current format – as something you experience in the context of a relationship with with another person where there is a sense of flirtatiousness, desire, mystery, and sexual chemistry.
I have experienced an enormous amount of romance in my life, and it has involved every element except the sexual chemistry bit. In my life, that stands alone, apart from the experience of romance. Also, most of it has been experienced alone.
The vast majority of what I have had the delight of encountering has its origin in God – nature, music, old cities, mountain towns, art, and friendships. And this, I think, is where I deviate significantly from the cultural norm. I experience more romance in my friendships and interior life than I do in my marriage. And I think that’s fantastic!
Given that this experience is such a highly sought after thing, and in our culture is inextricably connected to sex, it’s no wonder people go after sex and partners in a rapid fire fashion. The phrase “love life” refers simply to – one’s sex life. Rather boring, in my opinion, compared to what that could mean – and epic love affair with the living God, adventures galore in work and nature and travel, the entirely unique and evolving relationships with children, spouses, friends, and strangers.
To me, romance is the way a tree, a song, or the gaze of a dear friend, hooks me by the soul and sends me spinning into another universe.
The way the seasons are predictable – and yet eternally fresh, full of intrigue and excitement.
It’s dancing to the violin under a full moon on a summer’s night, alone in a field under the stars with trees as my audience.
Closing my eyelids just enough while gazing into the sunset, that I see rainbows in my eyelashes.
Feeling the first movement of new life within, and that first moment of slippery glory, holding that fresh new life in my arms.
The way that, after months of praying, hoping, and holding onto faith, God sends me titanic sized boat of what was asked for, instead of the tidy brown package I expected.
A heavy purple tomato, an evergreen forest silenced by snow, the barrenness of the desert – these places are what romance is made of.
The reason I believe this important to talk about is that the experience of romance is something that makes us deeply human. People who have wished and waited, only to show up empty handed in this regard, feel let down and jaded. Pale faces, dry hearts. I know, I’ve been that person.
We humans, we aren’t robots. We need a reason, we need a meaning to this circular life we live, something bigger than us, outside of us that we can be part of, to make the dishes and commutes, and repetition of daily life, shine with a knowing glimmer. Romance, it seems, fits that bill. The intensity of its magic, the finger pointing at something we cannot yet see, the feeling of immanence, of almost, the suggestion of a whole other universe where play reigns supreme and love flows like a river- that seems like something we could hang our hats on. The reality is, that place is far more real than our dirty streets and sticky floors, and the redemption of here lies in infusing this place with the essence of there. Of writing a world where no mundane detail is too small to swept up into the love story that is our genesis.
The Eye of the Needle 