Heart Healthy

My wife just finished reading "In Defense of Food" by Michael Pollan. I haven't read the book, but I like the straightforward approach hinted at by the cover: "Eat food. Not too much. Mostly plants."

On a brief visit to Idaho this past summer (to celebrate the aforementioned 50th anniversary), we picked some of our own food to eat from a garden at the ranch where we stayed: green beans, snap peas, zucchini, pattypan squash, raspberries, carrots, lettuce. We also trekked to a patch of wild huckleberries and found enough to make a scrumptious huckleberry and peach cobbler.

There's nothing quite like eating fresh food that you picked and prepared yourself. It tastes great and feels right. It's almost enough to make a locavore out of me.

All that got me thinking about a short poem I gave to my Valentine last year.

I don't mind
the occasional bowl
of oatmeal,
or regular servings
of whole grain
goodness,

but it's my recommended
daily allowance
of you
that keeps
my heart
beating.

It's true – she does my heart good.

Commitment

Early on in their marriage, my sister-in-law asked her husband "Why do you love me?" After a thoughtful pause, he replied "Because I'm committed to you."

I think she felt some initial disappointment at his answer. Maybe she was looking for some compliment like "You're beautiful" or "You're the smartest woman I know" or "You're so good to me".

She soon realized the depth of his answer. It meant that his love did not depend on how she looked, or what she knew, or even how she behaved. His love for her was rooted in commitment. He loved her for her and forever.

He still does.

I'm not sure it matters so much which comes first - love or commitment - but at some point you need both. There are plenty of examples of arranged marriages where the initial commitment blossomed into love. And plenty of counter examples where feelings of love never quite matured into commitment.

Even contemplating the decision to be married to one person forever can be terrifying. I know it felt too big for me to comprehend when it was my turn to make the decision. I took the leap because I knew she was good for me and because I felt peaceful and right about it. But did I know what I was getting into? Not really.

I think part of what makes the leap of faith into marriage so unnerving comes from the feeling that love may be something we can't control. What if we fall out of love? Will our love be strong enough to endure hard times?

I draw comfort from the understanding that commitment, which I can control, is at least as powerful a force in my marriage as love is.

I have found that both love and commitment have grown deeper along the way.