I found this old post from back in 2011. In fact, I had forgotten I’d even written it. When I find old posts like this from several years past, I might re-post some of them, especially if they were on the old Blogger platform – and not this WordPress one. Some of them need edited to fit this format. Plus, sometimes it’s fun just to read what was on my heart back then.
So here it is.
Love is . . .
Love is washing dishes and kissing ouchies. It is picking up the house after everyone else is in bed. It is making meals when in the throes of morning sickness, cleaning toilets when you’d rather puke in them, and changing stinky diapers day after day. It is listening to children singing in the bathtub, picking up your husband’s dirty socks for the 200th time, and missing out on good sermons to go feed the baby.
Love is holding the wee one in a rocker at midnight, knowing it won’t last forever. It is helping with homework when you’d rather be reading a book. It is disciplining, training, instructing……no one ever warned you it would be hard work.
Love comes with dirty faces, sticky fingers, and muddy feet. It wraps its pudgy arms around you while smearing peanut butter and jelly all over your clean clothes. But you don’t care. It is love and it warms you to your toes.
Love is a hand on your shoulder in a time of need, an arm around you when you feel lonely. It is forgiving when you’d rather not and saying sorry when it’s so hard. It is picking up a friend who has fallen, and walking beside them to victory.
Love is giving your spouse the benefit of the doubt and trusting they know you better than you know yourself. It is walking beside them through the depths of despair and over the mountaintops of joy. It is pushing them on when they have no more to give.
When they come to the end of their rope, love is hanging there with them.
Love never sleeps, is always available, and unselfishly gives. You can see it in the elderly couple holding hands and in the sweet newness of an infant.
If you listen carefully, you will find that
you can hear love just as eloquently in the voice of a child
. . . as you can in the sermons of the saints.