What Love IS

I am sitting on my couch on a Wednesday evening.  My son is playing superhero vs. villain in the middle of the living room floor.  Apparently he's the villain this time, because his giant plastic Spiderman toy that he got for his birthday last year is really taking a beating.  If I look up at him while he plays, he gets embarrassed and tells me not to watch him play.  He wants me to be absorbed in something else, knowing he's there, but not really noticing him. He is comforted by my presence, and although the kicking and thumping drives me to distraction, I continue to sit here and type because I want him to feel comforted.  I want to experience the joy of sneaking a peek of these fleeting moments of childhood that seem to be gone in a flash--to disappear when I'm not paying attention.

It is easy for me to forget that I am loved sometimes.  I get caught up in the busyness of life. My daily routine, the stress of paying bills and keeping up with laundry, checking in on my dad, making sure I've done everything I was supposed to do at work, it all overwhelms me.  It isolates me from the people I care about and it alienates me from the comfort of their presence in my life.  I often start to feel invisible underneath it all--forgotten even.

But amidst the frenzy of life, the heaviness of my own mind and my absolute certainty that I am unloved and unloveable, the people who care about me the most  tend to show up.  They call me to see how I'm doing.  They offer to help me with something.  They send me and my boy tickets to Marvel Live or the circus.  One of them takes it upon herself to gather up enough money to help send my boy to summer camp.  They don't ask for anything in return, they don't even tell me they've chipped in, they just do these things because they are beautiful, kind people and they love me. I have no idea why.

I feel I have so little to offer them, yet they shower me with their kindness.

I am in awe of them and feel so unworthy of the love they extend to me.  My heart is full.  I am abundantly blessed to have such love shown to me, especially when I feel I am so unworthy of it.

Love is grace, extended not just from the hand of God, but to all of us from our fellow man.  It cannot be won or lost, cannot be earned.  Love is that thing which lifts us out of our own darkness, reminds us that we have a purpose and showers us with grace when we feel we deserve it the least.

What is love, after all, if it is only given when it's earned?