Labor of Love

Whenever I hear the word "labor," the first place my mind goes is to the births of my three children. They all have differing personalities ... distinct personalities that were made known even in the way they each entered the world. My labor with Matt was long, almost 30 hours, with severe back pain ... so severe that his birth required me to have an epidural. Then there's Brad ... the doctor sent me to the hospital after a regular appointment, saying that I would have a baby by the next morning, surprising me because I wasn't having even a hint of a contraction. Brad was born 10 minutes after we checked into the birthing room, almost in the toilet ... 'nuff said. And finally, my only daughter Meghann ... I went to the hospital the minute I felt a twinge of pain with her because of Brad's speedy birth; I certainly didn't want to deliver her in our minivan on the Florida turnpike. I was in labor for about 13 hours with Meg, and though it was painful ... well, duh, of course it was painful ... I endured and delivered her without having any medication at all. Each experience of labor with my three children was different ... different in the length of time that passed and the level of pain involved ... each different, but each most definitely labors of love in the truest meaning those words can convey.

The dictionary defines labor as "an expenditure of physical or mental effort, especially when difficult; working strenuously to achieve a set goal or accomplish a specific task." As you can imagine, there exists a plethora of definitions for the word love ... far too many to list in this post. As I read through them last night in preparing to pen this post, however, there was one in particular that struck me ... the one, if you will, that best defines what I would like to express today. The Merriam-Webster dictionary lists the following as one of the key definitions of love ... "strong affection for another arising out of kinship or personal ties, and the unselfish loyal and benevolent concern for that person." And last, but certainly not least, the definition of the word of ... "used as a function word to indicate the cause, motive or reason." In my quest to determine the true meaning behind the phrase "labor of love," I discovered something far greater than I had imagined ... I discovered a truth worthy of planting deep within my heart and living out every day of my life. 

I've been writing this blog since February 2008 ... roughly five and a half years, and up until December 31, 2012, only my words filled the posts it contains. Since the appearance of the very special words of my first guest blogger on that date, I've been blessed to share the words of several other anonymous guest bloggers this year ... words from people whom I respect deeply, words that have helped not only me to grow and learn, but many of you as well. In my previous post, Not One More Mile, you read the words from the hearts of two people who graciously accepted my invitation to write along with me while striving to attain one united goal ... to help and encourage others. Our deepest desire for the post was to help those who are carrying heavy burdens deep within them to realize there is a way out of the darkness ... to help friends and family fully appreciate the tremendous power they possess to bring about change in someone's life by being willing to listen and to care ... to help all of us understand that living in hiding and denial of our true authentic selves leads to depression and possibly even death ... to help eliminate the stigma that often accompanies admitting our need to ask for help, whether on a personal level through friends and family or a professional level through counseling or therapy.

The response to our collaborative post has been overwhelming ... it has received more views than all my previous entries combined ... yep, you read that correctly ... more than all the other posts combined, and you will have to trust me when I say that's a whole, whole, whole lot of views, friends. I apologize to those of you who may be anticipating a reply to your emails and Facebook messages ... this morning, I feel like Bruce in the movie Bruce Almighty when he answered like a million prayers only to find that 10 million more had arrived. As I'm attempting to make a dent in reading your notes, there is one question that is appearing over and over again that I would like to answer publicly ... how we went about writing the post. Many of you have asked if we all sat at a table together and talked it through as we wrote because the thoughts and transitions from one writer to another were so seamless. The short answer to that question is no, we did not. I wrote my part of the post and sent it to the two guest writers who then wrote their sections independently of one another and forwarded them along to me. I cried buckets as I combined all of our words together ... I cried as I marveled at the perfect way the words from one writer flowed directly into those of the next ... I cried because there was no denying that God was in the midst of this endeavor ... I cried because I knew deep within my heart and soul that I was directly witnessing a true labor of love from my friends, not just in writing for the post but in their steadfastness, their acceptance, their encouragement, their loyalty, their persistence and their friendship that hasn't wavered for even one moment during the last year.

I find it more than interesting that many of you who've written to me concerning "Not One More Mile" have said that it will be difficult, if indeed not impossible, to pen anything in the future that will compare to the real, genuine, truthful words contained within that post. I find those comments more than interesting because for the last few weeks, I've been contemplating the possibility that it's time to stop writing ... to board up The Tree House, so to speak, and call it done. You've heard the old saying that all good things come to an end, and I wonder if perhaps it's time ... not because I'm weary of writing ... I will never grow weary of writing, of that I can assure you. I wonder instead if perhaps I have nothing more to say that is beneficial, encouraging, helpful or uplifting to you. And while there are times when I am aware that my writing is therapy for me, the real reason I write is for you ... I write with the hope and the prayer that somehow my journey, both in the light of day and through the dark of night, will help you or someone you love.

Today is Labor Day in the United States ... maybe for today, I'll change the name of the holiday and call it Labor of Love Day instead. Now that I think about it ... I think every day should be Labor of Love Day ... I do indeed, friends ... I do indeed.

"An expenditure of physical or mental effort, especially when difficult; working strenuously to achieve a set goal or accomplish a specific task for the cause, motive or reason of having a strong affection for another arising out of kinship or personal ties, and the unselfish loyal and benevolent concern for that person."