The following speech was delivered by Ms. Barbara Malecki at morning assembly on November 25, 2013, as part of Loyola’s “Grad at Grad” reflection program. “A Loyola Student is Becoming More Loving” My mom has never seen anything I've directed. If you asked her, she'd remind you that she saw most of the plays and concerts I performed in when I was little, all the way through high school. But even as of last Spring, she just couldn't understand why she'd have to come see a high school production I wasn't in. Old as I was when I finally came to terms with this misunderstanding, my mom's lack of presence still made me feel unsupported, and maybe even a little unloved.
At the same time, I was trying to adjust to my first year of marriage. Getting to spend the rest of my life with my very best friend in the world feels like a pretty amazing gift. I feel blessed to have known Alex as a friend for so many years before we started dating. That first kiss scared us like nobody's business, so much so that planning for the future seemed rather easy after that. Saying yes when he proposed and promising, in front of God, friends, family, and Fr. Sehler, to love and honor him for the rest of my life certainly stands out as my clearest calling in life. However, moving in with him and adjusting our daily lives to one another proved more challenging than I ever could have imagined. Granted, I cook, and he does dishes, but sometimes it seems like that is where our natural balancing act ends. I need sleep; he stays up late. I am neat; he prefers a happy mess so he can find things. When I'm angry, I need to talk; when he's upset, he needs to go off and think. I get my work done on my commute, but he has a
lot of meetings for work, so I always want more time together. That first year, we felt disjointed.
Then I read a book. Of course, I'm an English teacher, so why wouldn't a book have the answers? But this was one of my few ventures into non-fiction reading, into the spiritual realm. When I got engaged, my friend Colleen gave me The Five Love Languages by Gary Chapman. Admittedly I put off reading what I thought was a fluffy self-help book, at least until my first year of marriage had my head spinning. Reading this one book felt like unlocking the door to my relationships, arming me with keys to enter whenever I want. The basic premise of the book centers on the thesis that everyone expresses love in different ways, all falling into five categories. Some of these expressions come naturally to me, just like my first language, and I enjoy giving and receiving them, but others challenge me, like learning a second or even third foreign language. Here they are, in no particular order.
My husband and I are warm, touchy-feely people, into hugging to relieve anxiety, to celebrate successes, to comfort, and more. So you might say Physical Touch appeals to us both. After two years of marriage, Alex would tell you I'm quite the masseuse when he's stressed out, and he knows I love when he brushes my hair. Perhaps more importantly, we know when the other needs his hand held, a playful nudge, or a heartfelt snuggle.
My mom, however, is fluent in the second language: Gift-Giving. Sometimes she picks out her own gifts and expects me and my sister to pool funds to achieve the purchase. Other times, she wants us to make a big show out of her birthday and throw her a party. If we forget, she feels neglected, but we understand this better now, and do what needs to be done to make my mom feel loved. My husband and I aren't nearly as proficient in gift-giving. We don't spend much money on each other. I enjoy making gifts for him, using my meager calligraphy and watercolor skills learned in freshmen art in high school. Once a year or so, he gets me flowers, but he isn't very good at remembering anniversaries and the like. That's ok with me, mostly because he's really good at the next one...
Even back when we were friends, Alex had a way with words. Whenever we had dinner with a group of friends, he'd walk me to my car, finding a way to wax philosophical about where our lives were heading for an hour and a half, even in the freezing cold. Yes, he's a little forgetful, with a tendency to be late, so they may not be received on the right day for the right occasion or for any occasion whatsoever, but Alex gives the best cards. He's in public relations, so he writes for a living, and he could make me teary with just one square inch of paper. He can also make me forgive him for just about anything. You may have guessed his primary love language is Words of Affirmation.
Sometimes I give cards too, but mostly I give food. I can cure a bad day with lamb souvlaki and agvolemono soup. I can warm him up on a cold winter's night with sauerbraten or pozole soup. I can heat things up with some french... crepes or duck
l'orange. I live to serve in the kitchen, but I will serve wherever I'm needed. I volunteer at my husband's school, running registration for breakfast with the Easter bunny, recording donations at a dinner, and once even auctioned off my cooking Lyness/Oroszlany style in his school's auction. This type of love, my second language, is called Acts of Service. I tried to explain it to Alex, how I would feel loved if he would serve me sometimes. However, he just didn't see it my way, until I said flat out: "I think vaccuuming is sexy." Now, every Saturday, while I'm at a Forensics tournament, my husband not only vaccuums, but also does laundry, which, by the way, is also sexy.
Finally, we come to my primary love language, the one I'm comfortable speaking, and the one that means the most when given to me by my loved ones. Quality Time. Once I read about it, everything clicked. I felt distant from Alex that first year because he had so many evening meetings and worked at night even when he was home, so I felt ignored. When he read the book, which was an Act of Service in and of itself, he knew immediately I spoke Quality Time while he spoke Words of Affirmation. We can't control his meeting schedule, but now, when he's home, he pays attention to me, plays music he knows I'll like while he does dishes, and asks if I'd like to watch a show or play backgammon.
Discussing Quality Time with my mother, on the other hand, certainly daunted me. Somewhere inside myself, I felt as an adult, I no longer had the right to complain about my feelings of neglect; at the very least, it seemed immature and maybe even melodramatic. I gathered my nerves though, wanting to spill my guts and explain to my
mom how she made me feel. We had a long phonecall last Spring, at the end of which she promised to come home a week earlier than planned for Christmas, so that she could see the fall play. When she forgot about our plan, again, I was hurt. And yet, when I told her I wanted her to spend more time in New York once the baby is born, she sincerely listened. High school theatre may not be her scene, but she was touched that I asked her to stay for a few weeks to help me care for her newborn grandchild. She's already booked her flights!
My husband reminds me sometimes that love is a choice. Falling in love may come easy, but staying in love means making a daily choice to work toward love. I'm content to have achieved profiency in the five different love languages, but I know I have to continue to exert effort in each of them to show my family and friends that I love them. If I truly listen to the needs of my loved ones, I will become a better speaker, conversing with them in their native tongue. It may take a simple touch, a household chore, an encouraging word, a gift given, or an hour spent, but by making that conscious effort, my love will be more meaningful.