perspective.

Cuddling with Bergen before bed is sweet.

And fleeting.

I know.

In a recent cuddle-fest, I kissed his ear and whispered, “I love you son.”

“I love you too, Momma,” my pint-sized reading machine replied.

“Berg – do you know how much I love you?”

“No, Momma. I don’t know how much.”

And he probably doesn’t.

He really can’t.

Because he’s five years old.

So by his very length of life,

he lacks

what it takes to understand.

He lacks

what only age and time and experience can bring you.

He lacks

perspective.

He won’t really understand how much I love him until he’s older.

Until he has seen more

experienced more

lived more.

He cannot know right now.

Not really.

And some of that perspective won’t fall into his lap until he is cuddling with his own son there and he is in love with his own boy and he asks that kid,  “Do you know how much I love you?”

And then it might hit him.

Ah, perspective.

My mom loved me like this too.

And you know, (I know you know), that I guess God’s love is pretty much just the same.

Because we have such limited perspective.

We have such little experience.

We just don’t know the big picture.

We just can’t see the end

or understand the process.

We need to see,

live,

experience

more.

We need perspective.

But we won’t get it.

Not in this life time.

Not really.

We get glimpses.

Like cuddling with a little boy now

and remembering that a mom cuddled with you then

and imagining your son cuddling with a little one far from now.

And we have to let those be enough.