I found myself at Starbucks awhile back ordering my usual Americano. As I sat down in an overstuffed chair and opened my journal to write, my mind raced with questions about love and romance.

Over the weekend I had taken my best shot at pursuing a young lady who had attracted me. Compliments like, “I have never met anyone like you” and “You treat me better than anyone has ever treated me,” rolled off her tongue. Everything seemed perfect except...she didn’t feel the “fireworks.”

It felt like a replay. Time after time, girls thought I was perfect, wanted to be my best friend, but for whatever reason, the fireworks didn’t go off and the relationship never went to the next level. I had to know why.
Setting my cup on an end table I tried to write, but couldn’t escape the questions: Whoever said that fireworks are a prerequisite for love? Does love have to happen in an explosion where the setting is just right, the sky lights up, and music plays softly in the background?

During the weekend my friend, her roommate, and I decided to watch a movie. Since it was two women and me, of course we had to watch a “chic-flick.” The movie, Love Comes Softly, reminded me of Little House on the Prairie. I was proud of myself for watching the whole thing.

The story centers on Marty, a young woman whose husband died in an accident. To survive the upcoming winter she married Clark Davis, a widower left with a young daughter. Marty resented Clark in the beginning, but as she cared for his daughter and watched Clark’s faith in action, she and Clark became friends.

One scene showed Marty talking about love and romance with an older lady who had also been widowed and had remarried. Marty, who thought love had to include fireworks, asked her older friend if she had loved her present husband when she first married him. The friend said “no,” but she loved him deeply now. “Love doesn’t always come with fireworks,” the older woman said. “Sometimes love comes softly.”

I pondered that thought, knowing the girl I was interested in had heard the exact same words. What was she thinking? Maybe I was the guy for her, but the experience didn’t feel the way it’s usually portrayed in the movies. Maybe not. All I have to say is, she picked the movie!

My phone rang. It was her, wanting to meet for lunch before I drove home. I downed the last sip of cold espresso and left, planning to share my thoughts with her – not necessarily to win her heart – but to share mine and to understand more about this complicated thing called love. I rehearsed my speech in the car. Don’t laugh. You would have done the same.

As we ate we talked about everything else. Finally, I took the plunge and explained my ideas about fireworks and love, and the movie. With tear-filled eyes she admitted she didn’t know what love was supposed to feel like. She had experienced sparks in past relationships that eventually fizzled. In others there were no sparks initially, but eventually she did feel something. “I think I am supposed to know it when it happens,”
she concluded.

I drove away wondering if the problem was me or her? Would I ever understand? Nevertheless, I tend to agree with her. When love happens, we’ll know. If our relationships with the opposite sex are supposed to mirror our relationship with God, then I don’t think there is a formula. When God romanced me, love came softly while I was still a kid, and eventually grew into an out-of-control romance. Yet when God romanced the Apostle Paul, He knocked him off his horse and blinded him with light. Talk about fireworks. For others their relationship with God may come softly, dramatically with blinding fireworks, or in some other combination. I still have more questions than answers about love. After all, God is love and I haven’t figured Him out yet..

Jonathan Lumbard is the Director for Des Moines Master’s Commission in
Des Moines, Iowa..