God's Pursuit of Me,  HomeLife

Love

Love.

It just isn’t the one big thing.

That giant gift with the fat price tag doesn’t earn you a free pass.

I can’t buy my children a really cool game for the Wii one Saturday night and then not speak to them all week.

And when they wonder where dinner is on Tuesday evening I just point to the Wii game.

That’s ludicrous.

I can’t read Piper six chapters of a novel when she’s four and then never pick up another book until she’s eight.

“What?  Another reading of ‘Guess How Much I love You?’  Nah.  I read you six chapters last year.”

That’s crazy talk.

I’m learning that love is smaller than it is bigger.

It’s more mundane than magnificent.

It’s the tuck-ins and the repeated hugs and the placing of band-aids on barely visible scratches.

It’s the phone calls during the day for no reason and the hand-holding and the warm dinners on rainy days.

Love is what adds up over the course of a lifetime.

Love is your husband attending a Norwex party on a sacred Date Night without a single word of complaint.

It’s building a bird house with a six-year-old on a windy Saturday afternoon.

Love is standing in the yard laughing with your eight-year-old until you both fall down together in the grass.

It’s going out in the dark to look for a lost pair of shoes.

Love is beautiful.

And hard.

And it’s simple and it’s full of sacrifice.

It moves us beyond ourselves and it is pleased to serve.

And I am humbled every time I see it happen in our house.

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