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Blowing Glass

Writer's picture: Mo ReynoldsMo Reynolds

“She held out her hand to me. She gave me the smile that I had never seen and will not see again in this world, and it covered me all over with light.” 

-Jayber Crow


I went to a glass blowing studio once and was mesmerized by the entire process, transfixed by both its simplicity and fragility. At one point the artisan shared this gem: “You have to love the process of creating to be a glassblower. If you only do it because of the end project, you will lose the joy. At any point you could lose it all. The glass will cool too quickly or too slowly, you’ll miss an air bubble, or another project in the cooling oven will explode and shatter everything else. You have to love it as you do it, finding joy in the creative work and not just the creation.” 


Process over product is how my therapist/husband puts it.


In Jayber Crow, Jayber loves a woman. (Trust me, I’m not ruining anything by a little plot spoiler, only about five things happen in this book. Berry is more of “chew on the prose but don’t expect anything to actually happen” kind of writer) He chooses to love her from a distance with a profoundly monogamous loyalty. It changes him. This “unreciprocated” love makes him a better man and her reaction to it has no bearing on his choice to love. The process of faithful love is what brings him joy. 


I think that’s the piece that is missing from the rom-com depiction of love. It paints a picture that our actions will create some sort of programmed reaction in the person we love and that is the reward. We say the right thing or make the right choice or perform the right gesture and they meet us in the middle with a swelling of music and a deeply abiding affection.


What if simply choosing to love is the reward? What if our decision to love changes us and that is simply enough?


As a young bride I was thrilled with the idea of forevermore having someone who would deeply love me forever. They would cherish and adore everything about me. I knew marriage would be hard but I also believed that gone were the days of loneliness and self doubt, now I was going to be loved enough to love myself.


Not quite.


The problem was I was focused on the product of love. I thought it would look like showering compliments and nary a criticism in sight. I ached for an endless supply of affirmations and reminders, thinking somehow my husband could write enough love notes or say enough things that I would be irrevocably convinced of my worth and his love. That can be exhausting in all directions. 


It has taken a while, but I think I am finally becoming more like that glassblowing artisan in my partnership. I recently made the choice to simply believe my husband loves me until he tells me differently. This lens shift has changed everything. Instead of waiting for notes and signs of love in my language, I already believe he loves me and so my brain finds evidence of it everywhere I look. I see it in the chicken coop he built. I watch it in the dishes he washes. I bask in it when he fixes the ice machine and earns money for our mortgage. I choose to believe it and so I see it. 


The reward of choosing love is the choice itself, not what follows. When we choose to love we not only free ourselves from unmet expectations, we also allow ourselves to see the person we love as an independent person, not as an object from whom we demand a thing. Maybe they will meet us there or maybe they won’t. Maybe the glass will shatter just as we think we are arriving near the end and we will have to pick up the shards and start again. But along the way, we hold the power in our hands to unilaterally feel joy in the process of becoming someone who finds deep joy in the art of loving someone else. That is a creative endeavor worth pursuing. 



P.S. If you are looking for an action packed page turner, this book is not for you. If you are looking for prose that stays with you and shifts something within, go get it now.


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