Love, Love, Love

What is it we want? What do we really want? There are many answers mulling through my head. The one at the forefront, however, and coincidentally, the scariest one, is "I don't know." See, you would suspect, that at my age, with three children, a college degree and, for the most part, stability in life, I would know.
I've had a song in my head for weeks, as I once in a while do, when I hear something that speaks profoundly. Or, in this case, sings it. J.J. Heller's "What Love Really Means" is the song. In the lyrics, she describes multiple situations when people are searching for the love that will make them feel whole. And as I listen to it, I wonder how many people there are, doing that very thing. I am one of them, to be sure.
It's not what you think. I'm not greedy or discontent. I even thought I knew what love really meant a couple times. I suppose the first time I was absolutely positive I knew was the moment I saw my first baby's little wrinkly red face. And then the second one, and the third. Perfect, innocent little reminders. Let's face it though, that's not the kind of love we're talking about. Or is it?
Is it romantic love we seek? Is it the excitement of a new love, a "Bad Romance" as Lady Gaga would say? A frightful yet exciting, thrill-seeking, emotional high? Note: Mom, that's for you. I will never lose the mental image of you making claw-like hands and singing "Love, love, love."
Is it the concept of a soulmate? The romantic in me still believes that soulmates exist; the cynic in me says "fuggetaboutit." I think, if they do, in fact, exist, the whole theory is reliant upon flexibility. Your soulmate might not come in the perfect package you envisioned. Which is why so few of us have found them: we are too jaded by the fantasy of perfection.
I listen to Don Moen's Sunday morning radio show on my way to teach the teen Sunday school class every week. I love the inspirational stories. I always, always cry. Because I believe, deep down, that these people who are sharing these amazing stories of love have something I don't, but I'm convinced that I'm thisclose to finding it. I remind myself about timing, constantly. It's not up to me. God can count the hairs on my head, how foolish am I to think that I can control timing? Don said he heard a quote, I forget from where, about searching for peace, love and contentment. The quote was something like "Are you searching? Join the masses who are, the people who feel the emptiness, like a vacuum, inside. The truth is, that's there for a reason, and can only be filled by God. When you give up on looking for tangible things, or even people, to fill the vacuum, and you realize that God's love for you is the greatest form of fulfillment there is, you will feel whole." So is that it? That's what J.J. Heller says in her lyrics: "You will love me, for me. Not for what I have done or for what I become."
So, it's God they're talking about. And I can jump on that bandwagon and agree, but it doesn't mean I've accepted it or invited it myself. It'd be hypocritical to say I have. I'm still among the masses of searchers.
Inevitably, it's a process, like anything else. Accepting God's love, filling that metaphoric vacuum, is likely the first step. Maybe even not so much a "first step" but rather, a pre-requisite to step-two: the mysterious human love we crave in our every day existence.
So I'd love to hear from anyone who can tell me what that means. What is the love you crave? Are you still writing bad romances, or are you "filling your vacuum" too?