My eight-year old G-girl could hardly wait to meet my brother's foster baby. It was love at first sight,
instantaneous and pure... exactly how we are supposed to love each
other.
“Why doesn't her Mama want her?”
Mandie Lee asked.
“Oh, I'm sure she wants her; but Baby P's Mama has some problems that she needs to work on before she
can take care of her.” I tried to answer.
“But... doesn't she love her?
Because if she really, really loved her, she would fix her problems
and get her baby back.”
“I'm sure she loves her, Mandie.
It's just that some people are better at love that others."
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Man, ain't it the truth?
The problem with love isn't love. The problem with love, is us.
Whether it's parents or politicians,
janitors or Jesus... some people just know how to love better than
others.
It actually took me quite awhile to realize
this. I assumed everybody had grown up as well-loved as myself. In
fact, I was halfway into adulthood before I began to understand the
havoc that insufficient love can wreak.
I watched as Mandie cuddled with sweet Baby P, and I realized two truths about love:
- It is not the quantity of the love, but the quality.
- Is is not the grandiosity of the love, but the consistency.
Love is a process and we can all learn
to do it better. I know we can, because we were given the
blueprints.
And those blueprints even come with a guarantee...
Love doesn't fail, y'all.
We do.
Aren't we just a bunch of knuckleheads?
God gave us this perfect
love, and we just keep on messing it up. We get stupid and fearful, insecure and petty... and all of a sudden we convince ourselves that love is something we can withhold or ration like a
miser. Pfffft!
Either that, or we become so
egotistical that we must display our love in such a grand
and magnificent fashion that people can't help but sit up and take
notice...
Big love is fun! It's flashy! It's
enviable! But, for reals, it is ridiculously hard to maintain.
All we really need is the kind of
love I witnessed between my G-girl and Baby P.
A simple, nonjudgmental love that doesn't ask whether or not someone is worthy. The kind of love that sees through the
brokenness and accepts each other for who we truly are. Love that reaches across religion and
race and politics and old family wounds.
We need to get better at it, this
thing called love. We need to practice and practice, until we get it right.
Because, this I know for sure: God doesn't break promises.
There are only two things I want for Christmas this year: a forever home for Baby P, and a world filled with love that does not fail.
I hope you like your gift from me. And I hope it won't bother you when you find out I've been doing a little re-gifting.
This year for Christmas, I'm giving everybody the promise of Corinthians 13. I'm going to take that old promise, fold it neatly into an over-sized box, wrap it with shiny paper and tie it up with a big fat red ribbon.
You can act all surprised when I give it to you and say, "Oh, you shouldn't have!". And I'll just smile and say, "Oh, it's not much... just some lil' ol' thing I wanted you to have.". And I hope when you open it, you will rub your face in it and wash your hands with it and share it with everyone around you. I hope you will hang it over your mantle, tattoo it on your bicep, and sprinkle it in your spaghetti. Whatever, man! Just don't be afraid of using it up... there's plenty for everyone and more where that came from.
Love, Love and More Love. That's what you're getting from me this year.
A patient, kind, hopeful, trusting, persevering kind of love that never fails... all wrapped up with a pretty red bow.
Merry Christmas... from me, Mandie Lee and Baby P.
