Love

We have all known love.  If we were so blessed, we knew our parents' love as children.  We loved our friends growing up.  We had teachers and camp counsellors and youth leaders we loved.  Many have known the love of a spouse, and for some years, I think I did, too.  For those of us who are now parents, a love was born that defies understanding.  Since being a parent, I have learned more about God's love for me than I ever dreamed possible.  He loves me more than I love my own children, and I can't even fathom that, because my heart hurts some days with the love I have for these 3 small beings that have been entrusted to me.

My second son, my sweet Silas, is a lover.  He can have fits of rage, but they are inevitably short-lived.  He has never held a grudge.  He is a relationship builder.  He seeks it.  He seeks out people.  He does not like being or playing alone.  He does it sometimes, but it's never his first choice.  He bears the brunt of much of his older brother's anger, and yet, he desperately wants to be in his presence and have fun and enjoy each other.  He can be an insufferable tease to his younger sister, but it's all in his effort to find ways of connecting and playing with her, too.  He sits with me and snuggles with me for at least half of his waking hours.  He loves to climb on the lap of his Grandpa or his uncles, or older cousins.

For the first two years of his life, he was a "daddy's boy".  He loved to be around me and his brother, but if Daddy was home, he was with him.  He was snuggling with him on the couch, or climbing on his lap, or sleeping, sprawled across his father's chest.  Every morning, if he did not get a formal hug and kiss good-bye from Daddy, he would stand at the door and cry and cry his wee heart out.  At the end of the day, when his father would walk in the door, he'd run through the house, crying, "Daddy, Daddy, Daddy!"  He was so exuberant in his affection.

When his father left, Silas was also the most vocal with his emotions.  At that point, at age 2.5, he still woke in the night.  He slept in his own bed, but the routine, since I had stopped nursing him at night, was that his father would go lie down and sleep with him in his bed.  In the days and weeks that followed his father leaving our home, Silas would cry at night, and I would go to him, but he didn't want me.  He wanted Daddy.  It was heart-wrenching.  He didn't want me in his bed, and he wouldn't come to mine, so I'd leave him in his room, crying for his daddy, and would go to mine, and sob.  His father would come and visit the children in our home.  He did not have a car and would walk there and back.  Every time he would go to leave, Silas would start.  He'd sit on the floor at the door, while his father put his shoes on and cry, "Daddy, don't leave, Daddy, don't leave."  Every time.  His father would walk out the door and down the street.  Silas could see him for a long time, since he was on foot.  He would stand at the window, or even out on the step, and scream, "Daddy, come back!  Daddy, come back!"  His father would usually have his iPod plugged into his ears and never, ever turned around.  For 45 minutes to an hour after his father left, I had an inconsolable baby.

This wee boy.  This 2 year old boy's heart was ripped in half, by the person he loved most in the world.  The injustice of it has left me reeling many times in the past 3.5 years.

I have prayed for all my children, that God would do a miraculous, supernatural healing in them.  Each of their healings is going to look and be different.  They each have such different connections to the pain that they went through.  Ethan went through it as a child who had clear, distinct memories of years spent with his father.  Silas had the huge emotional outbursts in the beginning that his young mind "forgot" because he was so young, and yet he had an established relationship with his father that he did not forget.  And Rory has no inkling at all of what her relationship with her father even is.  Her pain is likely yet to come, and the boys' too, as they maneuver through the various stages of their lives.  And yet, I've prayed that their future pain won't have to disable them, emotionally or spiritually or psychologically.  I pray for God's protection and cushion as they will need many soft places to fall in the future.

In the present, life is stable and I have sensed God's healing, thus far, in my children.  I don't feel the abandonment of their father is playing a role in their day to day lives.  I believe God has intervened in many ways to heal much of the wounds that were inflicted upon these innocent lives.

Silas, in particular, has turned into the most loving child I have ever met in my life.  He gives and receives love with extravagant enthusiasm.  I find love notes and letters and cut-out hearts all over my desk.  I am handed something he has made or drawn, that expresses his love for me, almost daily.  He insists on hugging every person who leaves our home and is greatly upset when he hasn't had the chance to say a proper good-bye.  He gives spontaneous hugs all day.  And if we are not within arms' length, he puts his arms across his chest, hugging his own arms, which I also do in return, as our own little symbol of hugging each other, much like blowing kisses when you are too far away to give a real one.  He often says he wants to hug or stay snuggled forever.  To receive this kind of love from one's child is an awe-inspiring thing.  I am in awe at how much God loves me.  I can't do anything to earn that, and yet, he delights also, when I love him.  So beautiful.

Tonight, I listened to the song from the video just above.  It is my "go to" Psalm for comfort, and the only Psalm I have ever memorized.  Three weeks ago, I had surgery on my foot and was very nervous and agitated about the whole procedure and I prayed Psalm 23 the whole morning before I went in to be put under.  I think this version is so beautiful and so I listened to it over and over.  Silas came and sat with me and asked what it was.  I told him.  He loves music and loves to sing and insists on having the words to every song he loves.  I have printed out and written the words to so many songs for him.  This time, I found the lyrics online and he read them as the song played, singing along with me and the video.

At one point, he asked, "What does 'my cup's overflowing' mean?"  I told him that it meant that you had so many blessings and good things in your life, that you couldn't even count them.  I told him that my cup was definitely overflowing with all the good things in my life.  He pushed himself closer to me and laid his head against my chest.  "My cup's overflowing, too," he said, gently, and with absolute conviction.

I couldn't help it.  I started to cry, and then I started to sob.  I kissed his head again and again and stroked his hair as my tears fell.  I told him how beautiful it is that he has so much love in his heart.  I told him I pray his heart will always have so much love.

And in that small moment, God held me, too, and showed me, in no uncertain way, that he has done a miraculous, supernatural healing in this little boy.  He has answered and is answering my prayer.  This wee boy, who was shattered at the age of 2, is now a strong, healthy, giving, loving almost 6 year old.  He may have some scars, but they are so overshadowed by his capacity to love and reach out to people, and make people laugh.  He will lavish you with affection, if you let him.  I'll let him!  This child is God's pure love.  God has given me his tangible love through my son.  I am so overcome, and my cup is so very, very overflowing.