My Corinthians.

Love. Are we obsessed with it? We say it, make it, create holidays revolving around it, write about it, cry about it and make big plans surrounding it.

Love. What does that word even mean? I know it’s a noun, but is it a concrete noun or an abstract noun?

Love. And is anything to do with love ever truly concrete or abstract…. Is it all true and dependable, or is it all a fake?

Love. Those four letters can be placed in a sentence of three words that can mean a lot or can mean a little. And its meaning itself can be sometimes broken, occasionally fixed, always transformed and never forgotten.

But as of lately I’ve started thinking that love isn’t just a rush of feelings, but rather a series of long drawn out dealings. If it’s for a moment it’s infatuation, but if after the first fight, the second heartbreak, the third goodbye we’re still together; then it’s love.

Love -- is picking a path and staying on it, no matter what potholes or caution signs or fears lay ahead in the distance. Of course not every path leads in the right direction, as anyone who travels anywhere knows, and sometimes the only thing to do is abandon the journey.

Love, maybe more than a path even, is like a galaxy. It sends you traveling through unknown spaces where everything is dark and choices seem endless -- until you find a light reflecting through the vastness, which is just bright enough to make what could’ve been a blind journey clearly worthwhile.

Love. Can we ever say it enough?

Bookends and Beginnings.

Some love stories are like epic novels. Their feelings and words and embraces fill page after page, soaking the novel from cover to cover with love. These page-turners are best sellers for readers both in and out of love. When we’re in it, we’re living out our fairytale; when we’re out of it, we’re done with that sour chapter of our life -- flip the page, doggie ear a new one or continue along the lines of text with prince charming -- we’re all avid readers.

But lately I’ve begun to think more about books, as in multiple books, as opposed to chapters. And I’ve realized the value of owning more than one novel, which altogether form the series of our lives.

Each book holding it’s own memory, or years of adventure, or love story or even just pamphlets of small times shared with friends. Each a different story – some sad, happy, depressing, biographical, historical, those never-ending-stories, comedies, tragedies, hallmark cards, fliers, children’s stories, fantasy and even at times fictional. Each teaching us that instead of a continuous plot – maybe all life is really made up of is a series of stories, all vastly different but each cherished equally.

The thing about books, which makes them superior to owning a single life story, is they establish a library of tales.

You can remember your favorites and check them out over and over again just so you can reread each juicy sentence like it’s the first time. Every word sending shivers down your spine as you hide under the covers with a flashlight. It’s hard to set these books down. And just because you've finished reading, doesn’t mean you’re done with the book forever. It will have its place on your shelf for as long as you choose, to reference and to share.

Also with these books we savor, are the ones we’re sorry we ever cracked open, which may never be opened again. Covered in dust they’re forgotten about, or once read turn out to be more disappointing then the back cover promised, or they’re fated to be sent to the recycling bin to become the favorites of others.

All the same though, they belong in the collection of books, the library, which forms our lives. In this library, the life library, all access cards are free and all you need to subscribe is a life, and a will to read.

While reading you’ll come across new information, friendships, love, laughter, mystery, growth, guidance and literacy -- all serving as bookmarks which make the pages of life worth turning.