Risky

To be loved by someone requires us to trust the one who says they love us. 

My marriage has taught me that believing the words, “I love you,” does take time. But, over the span of time those words do cause one to  believe and trust the one who says them.  

Over the span of a forty year marriage, whenever my husband says, “I love you,” I no longer have an inkling of doubt. His words are not idle. Instead, they’ve been paired with his actions; his commitment, his loyalty, and his honesty. He’s validated his love for me in so many ways that I have no reason to doubt that he does indeed love me. Consequently, I’ve surrendered myself to his love. And the results? I am a very happy and contented woman. 

 Becoming a mother taught me that loving another requires thick skin and a soft heart. Though it was love at first sight when I laid eyes on each of my newborn sons, each of them had their turn to test my love. 

Loving them was a 24 hour, seven day a week responsibility. Responding to midnight feedings, comforting them when their wails were loud and unrelenting and changing the foulest of diapers were some actions required because I loved them.  

As they grew older, I was called upon to love them even when their preferred choices did not align with mine; you want to be vegetarian? You want to play soccer?  You don’t want to be on the swim team?  

Then as their unique talents materialized, I encouraged them to pursue their own avenues. The academically driven one was encouraged toward college, the lackadaisical; toward a trade. And the one who walked according to a drum beat that I could not decipher, forced me to wait and be patient.  

More than once they’d ask me, “Who’s your favorite Mom?” 

I had no favorites, but sometimes one was definitely easier to love than another. For instance, when our oldest son was 16 and hell bent on rebelling, our youngest son was eight. He was still quite innocent, much more compliant and did not quarrel with me like his oldest brother. Though I loved them both, one was much easier for me to be with than the other. 

Though I always loved them, there were times when in love, I took the wooden spoon to their bare bottom. Always hugging them and telling them I loved them afterward, our middle son once told me after a spanking, “Well I’m not loving you.” 

            Perfect Love

As much as I am loved by my husband and as much as I love our sons, this love, compared to God’s, is imperfect. The perfect, flawless, endless, and immeasurable love we all long for, comes from God alone.  

We can display God’s love every time we are kind, good, faithful, and patient to each other. But that perfect love, that love that is not partial, does not grow weary and never takes up an offense, comes from God. It is a love that is not earned nor does it hinge on us. God’s love is a given, when we are willing to believe it and receive it. 

How do we receive it? By believing that no matter how we feel, no matter who we are, no matter what we’ve done and no matter our circumstances, God is really ready, willing and able to love us. 

Why Bother?

Why bother taking a risk with God’s love?  I know for certain, that surrendering to God’s love, I am certainly loved.