More than words.

The song "More Than Words" by Extreme is one of my favorite of all time.  One of the earliest memories I have of hearing it is sitting in the cab of Daddy's tractor as a little girl while the radio played.  He was taking me out to see Apples--my "pet cow"-- that day, and letting me do some chores with him on the farm.  We were on a break and he was walking around, putting things away and singing.

I don't remember how old I was at the time, but I remember that the words to the song struck me even then.  I knew then that love was "more than words" and my parents are a perfect example of that... but Daddy particularly so.  He's not the best with words; we don't say I love you every day... in fact, sometimes the things he says are a little malaprop.  But he means well.

And my Daddy has always been love in action... from carrying me to the bathroom in full leg casts, to tolerating me listening to nothing but a single of "Nothing Compares to You" by Sinead O'Connor for an hour and a half drive to Louisville for a surgery.... until finally when we hit the Watterson Expressway, he couldn't take it anymore.

He doesn't have to say he loves me, even though he does say it often.  He shows it even more often.

It's in the big actions:
In the miles he's driven for me (probably hundreds of thousands at this point)
In the times he's listened to me cry over boys, guys, and men.
In the hands he's held after painful medical procedures.
In the yelling he's done at 2 am when I call him with a problem usually the product of a bad decision.
In the time spent trying to take an interest in what interests me, even after I give him a hard time about not listening.

It's in the little actions:
In the skittles he sneaks into my bag when he walks me back to the gate at the airport almost every time I fly home from Kentucky.
In the way he shares a songbook with me at church, and always has Lifesavers Spearmint for me in his pocket.
In the way he hugs me after a long absence, with one hand running through the back of my hair and my face buried in the slight smells of smoke and Downy that are home to me.
In the groceries he buys everytime he comes to visit even when I ask him not to.

My Daddy is love in action.

It used to bother me that he didn't say it much.  That he wasn't silver tongued or good with telling me how he felt.  When I looked for a man in my life, I was convinced I needed someone different.  Someone who told me more.  I liked to hear the words.  I needed to hear them.

But as it turns out, I'd rather have the action.  You can tell someone you love them five times a day, but if your actions don't match your words, you might as well just be saying, "I love me" instead.

Saying "I love you" is nice... but love is a verb.  Love always has time for you.  Love always tries to put you first.  Love cares what you think.

Love is honest, but tactful.  Love is straightforward, but it proceeds with optimistic caution.  Love is inconvenient at times, but keeps no tally of who's done what.

Love is courteous and patient, and it suffers through hard times and wrongdoings.  Love always gives without seeking return and is joyful throughout.

Love moves and breathes, smiles, and stops dead in its tracks for the person it seeks.

Love is so much more than words.