Isaac was sick enough this week to stay home from school but not sick enough to keep him from excitedly reading through every nature book we own. He’s my firstborn son, an animal and science fanatic. I had some computer work to do, so we sat together in a snuggly pile, he with his books, and I with this computer. Every thirty seconds, he would exclaim, “Wow! Mama, look! Look at this snake. Look at this bird. Look at this picture. What do you think about these mountains? Hey Mama, how low do clouds get? Look! Can you believe this isn’t a mammal? Look Mama. Hey look. Have you ever seen this lizard?”
I tried so hard to be present, though I had work to do. I took deep breaths and honestly observed his findings. After about thirty minutes of his constant prodding, I asked him, “Isaac, I love it when you do this, but have you ever noticed how you can’t stand to have a thought without sharing it with me?” We laughed, and I bet him he couldn’t find something interesting without poking me in the side about it.
Not thirty seconds later, “Hey Mama! Doh . . . ” We laughed so hard. He continued to interrupt me, and he literally couldn’t help it. It was a sweet thing I hope I never forget.
I knew it as it came out of my mouth: he is just like me. I remember my Daddy gently requesting that I please just stop talking for a few minutes. I’m pretty sure my constant jabbering nearly drilled a hole in his head. I knew in that moment that I hadn’t grown out of it much, either. Just ask Seth. When we sit to “read together” it’s laughable. “Oh. Wow, Seth, listen to this.”
I knew as I had challenged Isaac that our relationship mirrors some of my most innocent moments with God, those times when I’m walking with Him, when I’m observing the world in light of Him. “Hey look, Jesus, I see you. Do you see this? I know you do.”
I knew, too, that so often I don’t live that way, that innocent child-like way. Too often I grab my megaphone and verbalize my every thought. Too often I look to be heard by the masses.
It was a simple realization. Isaac had his lanky nine-year-old legs wrapped over my lap. He is growing and so precious to me. We glowed there, laughing and talking. Isn’t it simple, God’s love for His children? But it’s not just for His children. I’m a thirty-four year old woman coming to know that He loves me.
The love commanded of us seems to come from our realization of how much God loves us. Not just us as a body of believers, but He loves you as an individual. Some of us strive and strive for God and never believe it. He loves us.
I’m learning to accept it, not just in my mind, but with my emotions, too, and as I do, I seem to be talking to Him more. I believe His words to me about the world, how He gave His one and only son. I feel like a child to write it out this way, but it has taken me a while to believe it with my heart.
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Do you believe that He loves you?