attention (noun) - the action of taking special care of someone or something or some words; the action of turning normal around into unusual and dipping ordinary into incredible

You know those moments when you’re having an ordinary conversation, and then someone says something that just makes you breathless? 
Here’s what it’s like.

Your words- just moments ago walking normally and naturally and boringly across your tongue and off your lips- are stopped in their tracks, wide-eyed, while your heart and mind race on and away, whirling in wonder. The run-of-the-mill phrases just aren’t good enough anymore, because someone has said something that requires more than a casual nicety in response; it requires depth in return. Someone has said something that burns, either beautifully or terribly, and you’re blown away by the power of the statement and by the person the words have revealed.

This happened to me twice over the past week. It was two very different observations; two totally opposite ways of looking at the same thing; two vastly separate ideas about love. And they both came from teenagers.

The words sent my thoughts flying in opposite directions. One extreme struck tears into my eyes with its tenderness. The other made me wince at its casual, unintentional harshness.

But let me interrupt myself to give you a bit of a reason as to why these words mattered to me the way they did. A year and a half of marriage has me in constant, incredulous wonder. I’m try to get my head around what the love Eric and I share is, so whenever this kind of relationship comes up in conversation, my ears perk up. And here’s what I’m learning.

I’m learning that falling in love is like going swimming… sort of. You meet someone you like, and it’s like stepping into a kiddie pool. It’s nice and it’s fun and you splash around think that love is that pool and hey, it’s great! Yay love.

But somewhere along the way, it changes, and the love you’re in isn’t just a kiddie pool anymore, it’s a big backyard pool. It’s up over your head in places, but if you touch your toes to the bottom, you can still wave your arms above the water. And you can easily swim from side to side, and it’s great because hey, who knew that love could be like this?

And then the love has expanded even more, and it’s a lake, and you can glide through the surface or dive down deep or just float in the middle, surrounded and sheltered and supported by the lake-love that you still haven’t come to really know all of yet.

It’s there, floating in the middle of the lake, that it occurs to you that once you’ve explored every bit of the lake, you won’t be done figuring out love yet. Because probably the lake will turn out to be an ocean. And probably after the ocean, it’ll be something even bigger.

So when you look back at the kiddie pool version of your love, you can’t help but laugh, because weren’t you silly to think that that’s all there is to love?

So that’s what has in my head when the first words came hurtling in. Now, I’m lucky enough to work as a youth leader, and because of that, I get to know some really great kids. Some conversations are lighthearted and funny and totally not serious at all... but other times they're deeper. Other times, the easy, casual flow of words turns slow and serious, and it’s less of the kids asking me questions than the two of us asking and answering together.

High school kid: “You know what you said the other day, when I mentioned to you that I sometimes said ‘I love you’ to my girlfriend?”

Me: “Yeah….” And then I wondered out loud for a bit. I’d said that love is tricky to understand, and even though I don’t really get it, I do know that in the end, this kind of love is for marriage. So when you look for love, you should have your someday spouse in the back of your mind. “Do you want her to be the second, or third, or whatever girl you’ve said you love? I mean, it’s not a huge deal, sure… but I know it’s tough for me to think of Eric having said sweet things to other girls.” Even if it was only in the kiddie-pool stage. I’m jealous, okay? Romantic love is supposed to be an exclusive thing; a me-and-you-and-nobody-else thing. Sure, I say “I love you” to my friends, but it means something different. The Greeks really had the right idea with all their different words for different kinds of love.

But back to our conversation. We’re quite for a while, then this guy says to me, “That’s a good point.”

“Well, thanks.” I tell him. I only hope it actually is, though. A year and a half of marriage isn’t a lot to go on. Still…. “You’re a good kid.” I tell him. “You’re more mature than I was at sixteen.”

He laughs, then goes quiet. “I also decided something else.” Another pause. “I want the first time that I seriously tell a girl she’s beautiful to be when I see her on our wedding day.”

“Oh, that’s so cute-” I start. Then-

OH.

What better standard of beauty can a man have than his wife on their wedding day??!

And this from a kid in high school. Wow.

That’s the first conversation.

And then, just a few days later, this happened. A cluster of laughing high school girls had gathered around someone’s pink smartphone. I picked up some of the conversation: “Isn’t he just perfect?” “Look at that face!” (More laughter) “Look at it! What do you think, Kate?” Someone pushed the phone at me. “Don’t you think he’s just perfect?”

I looked, and yes, the guy in the picture sure was easy on the eyes. But if I’m honest with myself, it doesn’t come close to my idea of manly “perfection”… which comes in the form of a blue-eyed boy with a crinkly-nosed smile. So-

“I’m a little biased.” I told them with a laugh, waving my left hand in front of them jokingly.

Then one of the girls looked me right in the eye. “Just because there’s a goalie doesn’t mean you can’t still score.”

“Well, I mean-” I start. Then-

OH.

Why would you want to score against your own team? Against yourself? And since when is love about scoring and winning and losing? Is there any sadder understanding of love than seeing it as a game? Of handling it as a competition, with a winner and a loser…? What does that have to do with floating in that beautiful lake, with being thrilled and cradled and adored?

I am overreacting by normal standards, I suppose. The quip the teenage girl uttered was her youth speaking, her immaturity seizing a chance to be clever. And it’s not that a big deal to tell someone you love them in the kiddy pool stage, or the backyard pool stage, because according to your understanding of love, you do love them. Feelings are always real… they’re just not always right, or true.

But I still think we should pay attention to the words that catch our breath. Words like “I love you”. Words that call into question the “normal” ways of seeing and doing things. I think we should stop and cup them in our palms: shelter them. Bring them close to our eyes, really look at them, and wonder how they became the boring and mundane and cliché.
I think we should question why they cling to us; why they make us wince.

Or why they thrill us so.