Over the last couple of months I've been wrestling with keeping my head above water. I have a sure sense that I am not the only one in this fight! And something that I've learned over the last ten years of my life, as I moved through my twenties and into my thirties, is that this fight for life (or joy or survival or whatever you want to call it) never relents. But I learned something new today, something that caused me to literally soak my shirt sleeve in tears as I sat in the parking lot of Graeme's preschool. I learned the magnitude of 1 John 3:18.
"Let's not just talk about love; let's practice real love." My family was 1 John 3:18ed today. Two ladies didn't wait for me to invite them over politely into the mess of my home and life. They didn't wait until I collapsed under the dishes, laundry, used kleenexes, and weight of motherhood. They saw my need, they knew they had the means to help, and they came with arms and hearts full.
A voicemail this morning told me they would arrive this afternoon to lend their hands in organizing and cleaning my home. They wanted me to feel free to take Graeme-bear out for a date while they kept watch over a sleeping Jobie. And I did and we had a marvelous time talking about Graeme's favorite preschool subject, gym class, while eating our way through cotton candy and cookie dough ice cream cones! (smile) And when they left my home late this afternoon, my kitchen organized and clean, the floors swept, the mountain of books on the radio stacked neatly away, and my bathroom the cleanest it's ever been, my family sat down to a dinner that had been left for us, prepared with the same love that had covered my home through the hands of these women.
I learned that love does. And that love sometimes doesn't wait. And I hope to never forget it.