Evolution of Love

I am a scientist by training. I majored in biology in undergraduate and physiology in graduate school. As such, I have studied evolution and appreciate it's basic definition - change over time. The driving force of evolution is natural selection as environmental change acts on variability within a population of individuals rather than the individual. For example, data suggests that giraffe's necks are longer today, not because a single animal's neck stretched, but rather because those with short necks died out due to their inability to reach food. In short, the short necked giraffes died off and the long necked giraffes lived to pass on their genes.

I am a narcissist by birth. I majored in myself for much of my life. To be perfectly honest, I still feel and act as if the world revolves around my needs and desires. Self focus can have positive outcomes even for others. That is, if the focus is honest and results in change. Given my bent to focus on myself, I will temporarily divert from the proper definition of evolution and talk about my personal changes in regards to love. Let's dive in and stretch our necks for a moment.

I was raised in a conservative family. I guess you could say that both sides of my family were, and are, religious in the sense that they practice what they have learned about Christianity. It was no surprise that I, too, would become a Christian - which I am. I learned of one God, his son Jesus Christ, and the holy spirit, which was always a bit vague to me. But that's not the point. I learned God is righteous and we can be forgiven by asking his son Jesus into our heart, which is still a bit confusing. Again - not the point. I guess you could say, my exposure to religion was more works oriented as compared with grace. While I believed Jesus had saved me from my sin, I always seemed to think something was wrong when I would keep on sinning. As a result, failure was a common feeling and I learned to pretend that I was good and denied my sin, or at least the dirty little secrets. I held high standards for myself and even higher for those around me. Each time I screwed up, I buried the guilt and let it turn into shame. That, in a nut shell, was my perspective of Christianity as a youth.

Fast forward. A good friend in college expressed his concern for my future children. This through me for a loop as I was a straight A student, involved in lots of productive activities and generally respected by my peers and superiors. Why would my good friend be concerned for my future children? I let him get just close enough to know I had expectations that could not possibly be met by anyone - including himself. He is a pretty smart man and I wish we were still friends. But, we are not and that is another story.

Fast forward. While playing some ball with my son and his buddy, I noticed my son backing away from his friend. When I encouraged him to be aggressive, he would not. It just wasn't in him to do so. At that point when my son was all of 5 or 6 years old, I set out to change him. If acting like a man, or at least what I thought a man should be like, then I would change him. So, I coached, he played. I pushed my expectations, he failed to meet them. While we had different ideas of what a man should be, we were one in our frustration. Rather than loving my son, I though I could change him into an idea of what was lovable. I began to bargain with God as I feared my son may be gay. I told God in no unclear words what MY expectations were for MY son. Needless-to-say, I am not proud of my parenting.

Fast forward. As my son entered sexual maturity, he indeed was gay. Still not ready to accept this (neither was he by the way), I set out to fix him once again. I blamed myself for having "made" him that way. So, naturally, I thought I could fix it if he would just try hard enough. We went through thousands of dollars and years of "reparative" therapy with mixed results. The first therapist exasperated the shame and failed to change his sexuality. The second therapist was awesome however. He informed us early on his goal was to help my son love himself and thus repair any damage done to his psyche. Sadly, I went along with this not because I thought their was a chance to change his sexuality. Needless-to-say, this therapist helped my son learn to love and accept himself regardless of his sexuality. If only I had learned the same lesson. Perhaps I should have been the one in therapy, which I have been and, again - not the point.

Fast forward. My fairy tale world came to a screeching halt as my own real problems finally caught up with me. All the while I tried to change my son, I denied the pain in my life that had nothing to do with him. While I tried to "fix" what I did not meet my expectations in my son, I failed to be honest about falling short - way short - of my own expectation. I was indeed a hypocrite. Like all hypocrites, I had a perfect excuse for everything I did wrong and didn't do right. Remember natural selection - an environmental force causing change? My environmental force was being called out by others with no place to hide.

Having to take an honest inventory of my own life - the good, bad and ugly, helped me to love myself. Not because the good outweighed the bad, but because I could accept my own personal failures and imperfections as a part of my life. I began to accept that I couldn't meet my own expectations no matter how hard I tried. I am learning to love myself for who I am - nothing more and nothing less. Loving others comes easier for me now. I am by far perfect and I am getting better. As I have sad many times before, I no longer see my son through the filter of sexuality. I see him as my son, the man that God created him to be. Being created in God's image far exceeds any expectations I could ever have.

In summary, my love, or at least my definition and practice of love, has changed dramatically over time. Change did not come easy for me and likely doesn't come easy for anyone. Don't get me wrong, I still have expectations, but my love is not conditional on myself or anyone else meeting those expectations. God's plan was always better than mine.