The strangest thing has been happening to me lately.
I find myself actually WANTING to get up in the morning and read my Bible. The only other time I can remember it being this way was when I was pregnant with Lucy, when that connection with God was all that got me through the day. Then, when she was born and we knew she was going to be ok, my relationship with Him faded.
The one thing that has given me fresh eyes into God's love for me is, without a doubt, parenthood. The minute you look into that little face and see utter and complete dependence is the minute your world spins off its axis and you know you are dependent on something far greater. It is no longer all about you. You would scoop the water out of the seas and inhale all the sand on the beach, your lungs gasping and your heart full, if it meant your child would be safe.
This is the way God feels about me.
The fact that human love is so beyond fleeting, even my own love for my children, compounds this even further. Yesterday we went to the mall. It was a great time, and then the kids started throwing the T-Mobile pamphlets on the ground. I nearly had an aneurysm. I raised my voice. I moved little bodies into strollers more harshly than I should have. In those moments, I was not full of love. I wanted to love, but it felt better to show anger.
I was supposed to go out to dinner with a friend last night, and I had just been thinking how nice it was of Scott to let me go. I realized it was time for him to be home, so I called his phone. He was still at work. "How could you possibly have forgotten?" I pouted. "You knew this was important to me," I spat. I hung up the phone and felt like trash, calling him back and apologizing for acting like a self-centered brat.
My heart is bursting and there is so much more that I want to share, but I guess for now I will leave you with that. I've been reading Romans and there are so many verses I want to show you.
But for now, this truth is enough:
My love is so imperfect. God's love for me is not.