The Blooms That Broke Us (Tennessee Love Stories)

by Ashley Dill

“Some folks think you either got love, or you don’t. Rose and I found it ain’t that simple. Love grows. Love strengthens like a muscle. You give some then give more over time. It ain’t just a feeling. It’s a skill.”

“Love is something you practice, child. Something you break your back working for. Leaving will break you. But so will loving. It will hurt you to love patiently. To forgive over and over. To sacrifice.”

or you can just forgive him. You don’t need to be invited. Forgiveness happens in the heart whether someone even realizes they need to be forgiven.”

If you want relationships in your life to thrive, you got to operate for their good, not your own.”

I asked, “How will I know if I’ve truly forgiven Jack? I want to.” “It’s a good question.” He clicked his tongue a couple times, thinking. “I reckon you’ll know when you’re more concerned about whether you’re loving him rightly than whether he’s loving you rightly. You’ll know when you stop wishing he’d make it up to you.”

Love ain’t romance. It’s grit.”

Jack understood something I was just now coming to terms with. A few weeks ago, he’d said, “I don’t love you enough.” He understood it was a muscle. That love would start imperfect and strengthen over time. Even Richard and Rose had to grow.

The one thing I had always wanted since I was a child—a place to belong and be loved and accepted through the worst days—was something I wasn’t willing to provide for Jack. I only wanted it for myself. I left our marriage when it was difficult.

“Love does hard things. That used to scare me, but it doesn’t anymore. You can do the hard thing for them, because you love them. If that means showing up, being present, and waiting…do it.”

“I promise to love you in all seasons of life.” She sniffed. “To grow with you through every storm. I promise to protect your heart. To keep a watchful eye over things that would steal from our love. And to purge myself of selfishness that would choke out our reward.”

Maybe the way we got here—as painful as it was—somehow made this better. Made this stronger.

At one point, I would’ve said those blooms broke us. And maybe they did. For a time. But not all broken things are beyond repair.