Earlier today I took a walk to visit an old friend – a frangipani tree, which stands alone on top of a nearby hill. In the past, whenever I have visited her, she has been resplendent with flowers and surrounded by a veritable carpet of fallen blossoms. I would feel intoxicated by the fragrance and in awe of such a living embodiment of abundance.
As I approached on this occasion, though, I noticed that there was not a single flower to be seen nor smelled. I was disappointed. And whilst I still gave her a hug, I could feel that my love for her was a touch diminished.
And now I am wondering whether my love for people is similarly conditional. It is easy to love someone when they are radiant, emitting a sweet fragrance. But do we love that person as much on those days when the sweetness has gone, in its place a dark heaviness? Only when our love is unwavering can we claim to love unconditionally.
