Kar Kampakis headline
When my niece Lucy was a toddler, she pitched one of those I’m-not-going to-bed tantrums where no one could calm her down.
The next day when I talked to my sister Dana, she recounted the event and told me that as frustrating as Lucy’s tantrum was, she knew it was a result of exhaustion. So instead of yelling at her or trying to reason, she pulled her kicking and-screaming daughter into her chest. She locked her arms around her, hugged her tightly and refused to let go. After a minute of this, Lucy quit fighting. And as her walls tumbled down, she began crying in her mother’s arms.
Being a new mom at the time, I liked this strategy and decided to try it. To my surprise, it helped tame many tantrums. Initially, I thought the point was to calm my child down, but over time I realized that it also calmed me. Besides curbing my temper, it forced me to stop and think. It helped me respond to bad behavior, not react.
And while some tantrums continued in my arms, I felt a peace inside just doing the right thing. I knew, with every bone in my body, that I wouldn’t regret embracing my child the way I’d inevitably regret lashing out at her. Because for every fight I won, something inside me died. The victory was a hollow triumph, for all I’d really done was put up another wall.
It’s easy to love someone who’s pleasant, but loving a person in their most unlovable state — when they’re mean, harsh or downright insulting — takes special discipline. For me, it’s the hardest aspect of love to embrace. It goes against my instinct, because when someone attacks me, I jump in defense mode.
With my children, I have a vested interest in modeling this mature love, one that gives without expectation. This is, after all, how I want them to love others. But what about the people I’m not tied to? Why should I be kind to anyone I don’t want or need in my life?
I don’t have many answers, but I have learned this: When I deliberately choose not to love someone, it creates discord. It makes my heart restless, as if I have unfinished business. And while it may not consume me, it does bother me, because every so often a trigger will bring the discord to surface.
But when I choose love with real, unselfish love, I feel harmony. I enjoy the freedom of a burden unloaded. When I love, I put the ball in someone else’s court. Whether they reciprocate is their choice.
At some point in time, you probably received love when you least deserved it. Can you recall how disarming that was? Did it not interrupt your tantrum, if even for a moment, as you wondered why someone would do that? Love wins because it tears down walls. It makes us drop our guns and hope that maybe, just maybe, someone cares. To one person in this world, our life matters.
Today we see so many angry people, people hurt by life’s cruelties and wearing an armor no one wants to touch. But beneath the shell, there’s a battle raging. These people are at war with themselves, and whether they admit it or not, they need love. Only love can soften their heart and eventually change their life.
Mother Teresa said, “Spread love everywhere you go. Let no one ever come to you without leaving happier.” Love wins because it speaks to the broken. It helps us forget about ourselves, and look beyond tantrums and wailing to see the pain and exhaustion at the root of it all. Love wins because it opens doors and puts everyone on the same team.
Is there a difficult person in your life who could use a love lock? Are you willing to set aside your pride and love them with kind words or a timely hug? Maybe it’ll make a difference. Maybe it won’t. The point isn’t whether your effort pays off, it’s that you tried. Nothing done out of love is a waste. Somehow, our good work comes back to us, while also bringing out the person we were designed to be.
Kari Kubiszyn Kampakis is a Birmingham mom of four with a background in PR, writing and photography. Visit her website at karikampakis.com, find her on Facebook and Twitter, or contact her at kari@karikampakis.com.
