All over again
I love loving my children.
I thought this as I went into the girls' room to check up on them. The baby girl, was tucked right in, and I hated to have to disturb her. She looked so peaceful and content snug on her little belly. I wanted to make sure she had a night diaper on, so I gently picked her up, to avoid tousling her, belly up. She groaned, and slightly frowned. Shh, I said, stroking her pretty little cheek. I kissed her, held my face close to hers, and felt surrounded by heartfelt love. I was in love with the love that poured from me to her. I was enthused that it was love- not resentment, or grief, or a heavy sense of duty- that motivated me.
I have been experiencing, of late, what seems like a rediscovered love for my children. Not that I have ever ceased to love them, but I do remember, years ago, struggling with affection toward them. This love is renewed again, as I am not, what one would call, affectionate by nature. Recently I am finding a sweet joy and simple pleasure in holding them, playfully poking them, hugging their neck, and giving kisses.
No big deal, you may say.
To me, it is something I am most grateful for in this season of mothering. I want to hold them, just like one of my eldest daughter's books, that she has fallen in love with all over again called "Let Me hold you longer". I want to hold on to the memories of their faces and their joys and their laughter, and silliness. I want to remember their adventures and make sure that I am a part, of at least some of them. I want to never cease to fall in love with them, as many times as I possibly can,all over again.
Love never fails- 1 Corinthians 13:8
And now abides faith, hope, love, these three; but the greatest of these is Love. -1 Corinthians 13:13
I thought this as I went into the girls' room to check up on them. The baby girl, was tucked right in, and I hated to have to disturb her. She looked so peaceful and content snug on her little belly. I wanted to make sure she had a night diaper on, so I gently picked her up, to avoid tousling her, belly up. She groaned, and slightly frowned. Shh, I said, stroking her pretty little cheek. I kissed her, held my face close to hers, and felt surrounded by heartfelt love. I was in love with the love that poured from me to her. I was enthused that it was love- not resentment, or grief, or a heavy sense of duty- that motivated me.
I have been experiencing, of late, what seems like a rediscovered love for my children. Not that I have ever ceased to love them, but I do remember, years ago, struggling with affection toward them. This love is renewed again, as I am not, what one would call, affectionate by nature. Recently I am finding a sweet joy and simple pleasure in holding them, playfully poking them, hugging their neck, and giving kisses.
No big deal, you may say.
To me, it is something I am most grateful for in this season of mothering. I want to hold them, just like one of my eldest daughter's books, that she has fallen in love with all over again called "Let Me hold you longer". I want to hold on to the memories of their faces and their joys and their laughter, and silliness. I want to remember their adventures and make sure that I am a part, of at least some of them. I want to never cease to fall in love with them, as many times as I possibly can,all over again.
Love never fails- 1 Corinthians 13:8
And now abides faith, hope, love, these three; but the greatest of these is Love. -1 Corinthians 13:13
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