Long Lasting Love

A Moment of Connection with King Charles III

We are often told that as we age, things fall away. We lose our car keys, our stamina, and eventually, the people who knew our earliest selves. But there is a secret the mirrors don’t tell us: love does not diminish. It accumulates.

It pools in the corners of our lives like silting gold. By the time we reach the “autumn” of our years, we are not empty vessels; we are brimming. We have so much more love to give than we did at twenty, yet the terrifying irony is that we have so much less time to spread it.

The Weight of History

I couldn’t help but think of this paradox while watching King Charles III address a joint meeting of Congress this week. Standing in that “citadel of democracy,” he spoke as a man who has lived nearly eight decades in the public eye—a man who has spent a lifetime accumulating experiences, grievances, and ultimately, a profound sense of duty.

He remarked on the “weight of history” on his shoulders, noting that he is the nineteenth sovereign in his line to study the affairs of America. He wasn’t just talking about politics; he was talking about the long, slow buildup of a relationship.

“The modern relationship between our two Nations and our own peoples spans not merely 250 years, but over four centuries... Ours is a partnership born out of dispute, but no less strong for it.”

Isn’t that exactly how a long-term love feels? It is born out of the “fundamental disagreements” of our youth, weathered by the “moments of difficulty” the King mentioned, only to become an “indispensable alliance” in the end. We spend the first half of our lives figuring out how to stand each other, and the second half wondering how we will ever stand to be apart.

The Speed of the Spreading

The King’s visit to the U.S. is a whirlwind—Washington, New York, Virginia—all packed into a few days. It mirrors the frantic pace we feel as we get older. When you realize the reservoir of love inside you is finally full, you want to pour it out on everyone. You want to tell your children the things you were too busy to say when you were packing school lunches. You want to reach across the aisle—or the dinner table—and bridge the gaps that once felt like canyons.

Charles touched on this urgency, calling for a “rededication” to one another in “selfless service.” He spoke of the “unyielding resolve” needed to protect what we cherish.

In our personal lives, that resolve looks like a mother’s fierce hug or a long-married couple holding hands in a hospital room. It is the realization that while the “ice-caps are melting” (as the King warned) and the world feels volatile, the love we have banked over decades is our only true “firm anchor.”

Ploughshares and Swords

There was a line in the King’s speech that felt like a prayer for the aging heart:

“It is my hope – my prayer - that... we can stem the beating of ploughshares into swords.”

As we age, we lose the appetite for the “swords” of our youth—the sharp tongues, the need to be right, the ego that demands a win. We want the ploughshares. We want to cultivate. We want to plant seeds in a garden we know we might not see in full bloom.

We have so much love. It is heavy, it is thick, and it is ready. We might be running out of time to spread it, but perhaps that’s what makes the spreading so beautiful. Like a king on a short state visit, we have to make every gesture count. We have to speak the truths of our lives and hope that the “generosity of spirit” we leave behind is enough to sustain the next generation.

Photo by Dima Solomin on Unsplash

How are you “spending” your accumulated love this week? Is there someone you’ve been meaning to “rededicate” yourself to? Let’s talk about the urgency of the heart.