I'm allergic to your face

Ah, brothers.

I never had one, but I've got some experience in the role, and I can tell you: sometimes we say and/or do things that are nothing short of... well, mean. Particularly when it comes to the way we interact with our siblings, or our family in general. 

A lot of people have written about the “why” behind this, but that’s not really what’s on my mind this morning. For the moment, let's just say that my hall of shame in regard to things I wish I could take back, things I wish I'd never said... the list is topped by things I've said or done to hurt someone in my family.

And my sons... my sons... as amazing and beautiful and intelligent as they are, they haven't escaped this particular human trait.

A few weeks ago, I walked into the room just in time to hear Joey (age 6) say to his younger brother, "...actually Bobby, I'm allergic to your face." Bobby (an itchy, sneezing, kind-hearted boy who actually suffers from several real allergies and most likely assumes that one can indeed develop allergies to another person's face) didn't seem to realize that was really intended as a slight. I corrected Joey in the moment, told him that it simply isn't kind to say things like this, and moved on. A few days later, however, things sort of came to a head... 

Joey said some things that weren't very kind (involving liberal usage of the word "stupid"), and my wife Heather overheard. In the conversation that followed, he confessed that he had actually been complaining about his little brother to some neighborhood friends, and in the process of his complaint, had said some more unkind things about his brother, even written some of them down in a note that he passed to Bobby. (Luckily, little Bobby can't yet read.) He was sent to his room to ponder his transgressions, and was waiting there for me when I returned home from the office. He was penitent, and had actually shed some tears of regret. We talked about his day, and he shared his burden with me: that he doesn't know where the feelings come from, and it’s frustrating, but he simply doesn't like playing with his little brother anymore. I allowed him to vent, and then we had a conversation about what to do with these feelings. I think the conversation has some value outside of sibling conflict, so I'm going to tap out the main points.

We all have feelings that we can't predict. Sometimes these feelings may lead to us saying or doing things that are inconsistent with what we know to be kind and right. So often, we allow our actions to be dictated by our feelings, don't we? At times this is a very positive thing: we look at someone, our heart is overwhelmed with the feeling of love, and we do something kind or generous to show it. That's wonderful. But what happens when the feeling isn't there? We all know about this. What happens when you realize that the only feelings you get when you look at your little brother are frustration and disdain?

I’m going to digress a bit here. I didn't mention this to Joey, but perhaps this is one reason why the divorce rate is so high these days. Perhaps there are far too many people who make the decision to marry based on their feelings... the magical butterflies in the stomach, the accelerated heartbeat. It's a wonderful feeling, isn't it? But if that's all you've got, what happens 5 years later when you're in the middle of a fight? Where is the feeling? It's notably absent, actually replaced by different feelings which prompt a different set of actions, which create more conflict. When asked why they divorced, so many people say "we just didn't love each other anymore." They're probably right, in more ways than they realize. They stopped loving each other (the feeling was gone), so they stopped LOVING each other... love had ceased to be a “verb” in their relationship.

The feeling of love, as I mentioned, is an amazing thing. It's one of the strongest emotions we can experience, perhaps the strongest. But it doesn't begin to compare to the power of love as an action. I firmly believe that our feelings fall in line behind our actions. Think about it: if our feelings are tied to the actions of those around us (say, an annoying little brother), then we have no real control over how we feel on a daily basis. We weren't created to be that helpless. If we allow our feelings to govern our actions, it seems that we are putting the cart before the horse. Here's the scenario I gave to Joey D:

These feelings of frustration and irritation with his little brother, we compared them to a big, ugly, mean, growling dog (that worked for him... I think it perfectly captured what was going on inside him). Unkind actions and words, they're like a big bone you might throw to this dog. The dog is demanding that Joey feed it, and the only food it wants are the unkind actions displayed toward Bobby. But what happens then? Is the dog satisfied? No, it's not. Joey caught on right away, pointing out that the bone would only make the dog bigger. And then tomorrow, what happens? It's a bigger dog, and it wants another bone. A bigger bone. And the problem progresses until your actions are completely dictated by the big, ugly, mean, growling dog inside you. So, what to do? I proposed to Joey that he might consider refusing to act harshly and unkindly when he feels that dog growling inside him... that instead he might exercise love, the action. Love, the verb. He was quick to mention that if the growling dog goes unfed, it will get smaller, and smaller, and then just go away. I agreed. He determined that he would purposely act kindly toward his brother whenever he felt that sense of frustration, to make sure that he wasn’t feeding the dog a bone. More on that in a moment.  

Here enters my personal thought about love the action vs. love the feeling. Early in my marriage, I found that my wife wasn't perfect. I already knew that I wasn't, but I was surprised that occasionally I would find myself annoyed by little things she would do. Things like leaving the closet door open (I told you, these were very little things). So I mentioned to her - kindly - that I'd like it if she would remember to close the closet door. She did. Sometimes. Rarely. These are the typical little things that make the first year of marriage a learning experience. You have 2 people who have been living alone, learning to live together. Simple as that. 

So one morning, I woke up and walked into the bathroom, only to find the closet door open again. And I felt this feeling of frustration in my chest, more than anything else from the fact that my request wasn't important enough to elicit a considerate response. I wondered if this was why married people seemed to bicker a lot. Little things. I wasn’t satisfied to just ask again. It didn’t seem to be the proper resolution, and it actually didn’t seem considerate on my part. Then I was struck by a thought:

“… love covers a multitude of transgressions.”

I think in my mind, when I used to think of that concept, love had always been a noun. A big, pink, soft, blankety noun, billowing out over a random pile of transgressions. But on this morning, it struck me that perhaps - in this case - love needed to be a verb. Actually moving to cover something. And I decided to close the closet door. Make no bones about it: I was still irritated, still feeling a little frustrated as I reached out to close the door. What happened next, I’ll never forget. I remember the moment so clearly: where I was standing, the lighting in the room… like it was yesterday. Almost instantaneously, my mood changed. The feelings of frustration and irritation, they just disappeared. In their place I discovered this swelling sense of love – the feeling – that simply hadn’t been there even 10 seconds before.

The event above prompted a series of experiments. In many, varied situations, I tested this idea of the power of love the verb. And over the course of time I learned that my emotional response was consistent when I chose to exercise love as an action. My feelings fell in line behind my actions. The other side of this experiment was in moments when I had the opportunity to put the interests of my wife before my own. There was no transgression or frustration involved, but it was still a chance for me to choose love for my wife over love of myself. Kind of funny when the scenario is “Chinese or pizza for dinner?” Funny, but the result is no less powerful. My feelings of love for my wife were considerably stronger immediately following my actions of love for her.

That was a long time ago… 7 years or so. To this day I’ve found this simple practice to be one of the most powerful tools in building a loving marriage. I truly do love (the feeling) my wife more today than I did when I said “I do”. And my vision is clearer. I can see what a blessed man I am, that I was given the honor of loving and caring for this amazing, beautiful woman. I married up, believe me.

As for Joey D and his allergies to his little brother’s face, I have an update. We had our little conversation several weeks ago. I’ve waited to post this until I had time to observe Joey’s response over a period of time. The difference in the way he interacts with Bobby is spectacular. I’ve asked him a couple times about what we discussed that evening, and he has been able to illiterate the details of our topic very clearly. It’s obviously something he’s been thinking about and applying, and the kindness and softness have returned to their relationship.

And just this week, I found a note in Joey’s handwriting, in which he told his little brother that he loved him. I almost cried. It’s a little thing, that note. But the moment it was written, that moment when my Joey D reached out for his pencil, in that moment of silence when the lead was scratching across the paper... love was a verb. 

© Joshua Dufek, 2010