Skip to main content

1 Corinthians 13:1-7 (A Mother's Version)

If I speak in a calm and rational tone, but do not have love, I am like those obnoxious educational talking toys that speak in annoyingly cheerful voices while I'm trying to think. If I have the gift of poetry and can fathom all sorts of insights into my and my children's hearts, and if I have the oomph to get a myriad of things done, but do not love, I am pointless. If I give all I possess to my children and give over my rest and my personal hygiene and all the hours of my day so that no one can say that I didn't give it my all, but do not have love, I have earned myself nothing.

Love can sit through the first-grader's painstakingly-slow reading of Green Eggs and Ham, love is kind enough to ignore those questions that she knows she won't be able to answer without bombastically venting all her pent-up anger. It does not envy all the other moms who also don't post their messy moments on facebook, it does not boast about all the vegetables her kids eat or the books they can already read or the good services she's having them do, it is not making a mental chart of how well she is doing in comparison to everyone else.

It does not pass on less than complimentary details about others, it is not acting out of the deficiencies of her own heart, it does not let offenses build up so that one little slight becomes the straw that breaks the camel's back, it doesn't keep record of all the things her children have cost her or all the times her husband has got a break and she didn't. 

Love doesn't delight in having her presumptions about her friends' deficiencies confirmed but rather rejoices in how all things bring about God's truth. Love can take anything because it just passes the bill on to God, it always trusts him to handle it, always hopes in the right person, always lasts through until the very last "good-night" at bedtime because real love's resources are endless.

Love never fails.


jgd said…
You are so special, Abby. I admire you, and you remind me of my own mother.

Popular posts from this blog

Baptism Testimony

I didn't used to want to be baptized. I was too stubborn. I was determined to be the upright, genuine Christian who wasn't baptized—something of a superior class, I suppose. All that physical symbolism was for the archaic layman or the really emotional sort or the person who's afraid baptism is necessary for salvation. It's not for me. It's not for the steady, reliable believer who's doesn't have a big conversion story. I was in preschool when I prayed the prayer. In 6th grade, I gained a deeper understanding of sin while bickering with my siblings in the backseat of the family van. When I was 16, I began a daily quiet time with the Lord. And now at 36, I'm hearing the Lord asking me to make my faith work. Make the rubber meet the road. Get out of "morbid introspection and into deeds," out of "anxious hesitation and into the storm of events" (Rohr & Ebert, 129-130). Stop retreating into my head to figure out God and salvation

Why the Enneagram Numbers Quarantine

Type 1: The Reformer     I quarantine because it's the right thing to do and everyone ought to be doing their part for society by following the same procedures. Type 2: The Helper     No, I'm not concerned about myself, but I quarantine for everyone else. I want to help my neighbors feel safe, and I would absolutely die if I found out I had passed on the virus to someone else. Type 3: The Performer    I quarantine because that's what's expected of me, right? Plus, think about how bad it would look if I didn't. Type 4: The Individualist     I would've loved to quarantine before all this started but now that everyone is doing it, I'm not so sure I want to follow along. I guess I'll quarantine but somehow find a way to still remain exceptional. Type 5: The Observer     I might quarantine. I might not. I probably will while researching the facts about this virus. When I know enough, I'll make a final decision. Type 6: The Guardian     I q

Wanting the Ends Without the Means

I want my children to learn to get along, But I don't want to hear them fight. I want them to feel their emotions and understand them, But I don't want them to slam doors or be sassy. I want them to be respectful to adults, But I don't want to be embarrassed when they say something totally inappropriate. I want them to choose to obey me, But I don't want to come up with consequences when they don't. I want them to fill their own time with play, But I don't want to clean up the mess when they put stickers on the walls or throw tomatoes over the neighbor's fence or carve into the walls or cut through the upholstery with scissors. I want them to be good. But I don't want to suffer through their becoming good. I want a rich and seasoned relationship with my husband, But I don't want to endure seasons of dryness or coldness or disinterestedness. I want to have friends who are different than me, But I don't want to hear their threatening opinions. I wa