That sentence, "love takes time", really resonates with me lately. I mean, it automatically starts the musical in my head ("love takes time to heal when you're hurting so much") because, well who doesn't like a little Mariah Carey in their head all day?!
Seriously tho..."love takes time" makes so much sence to me.
Love takes time.
I have seen that evidenced at clinical. Probably my own fault, but I have become very fond of that one client, and have spent more time with her than the others. I have spent significant amounts of time on all clients, but that one is different. The time we HAVE shared means more to me. I have seen that, in order to love someone, you need to spend time with/on that someone. The more time I spend with each client, the more I love them. Her 101st birthday, I sat at her side, holding her hand and realizing I have a real friend in someone who's lived my life three times over!
I had a dream the other night, where EF was in it. I haven't dreamt of EF for a long time. being able to love friends and trust them the way I used to took time. Being loved in spite of my fears, my insecurities, that took time for others. Being able to love her again, to miss her, and to stop playing the mini-movie over and over in my head of what I would have changed or said differently....that only came through time.
The biggest change has been the change within my home.
Time. We have been together now for 2 years, 2 months, and 28th days (but who's counting?!)
I have had a few people comment regarding the changes in our children in the past year or so, about how they seem more secure, confident, and happy. They comment on my relationship with Will's children specifically. When we first got married, it was so different. The kids, rightly so, kept their distance. They have waited for me to show them that I am not going anywhere. That I love them. Love takes time. For them to love me and to feel loved by me. For Grace to give me a big hug and say I love you, to look forward to spending one-on-one time with her. For Em to call me mom and come to me with her sadness, her frustrations, her needs. We share more than just clothing, we share secrets. Bigguy and Taylor hug me, talk about their dreams and plans for school...ask advice. I'm starting to not only just be a stepmother..but to *feel* like a mother to these four children whom I love.
I knew it would..but it just took time. Time for trust. For security. For safety.
And, as a bonus, in that time, we found love.
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