Hum a few bars of Led Zeppelin's "Trampled Underfoot" and the littlest will proceed to get her groove on. Verse after verse, a simple refrain, "talkin 'bout love, talkin' 'bout love." Yesterday's morning commute inspired thoughts on love as Robert Plant's voice filled our van, and our little ones thrashed about in car seats.
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It appears that this month of love has ramped up my emotive state. Last night, as one Olympic qualifying round came to an end, breaking for commercial, JC Penneys had me contemplating the tagline, "when it fits, you feel it." And, as I returned the pint of Cherry Garcia FroYo to the freezer (...you weren't kidding about that one, Ash), hands sticky sweet, my heart swelled as my mind fiddled with this concept of "it." {It} is what I feel each time our garage door slowly rises, my van finds its way home, gearshift moving from drive to park, and the process of unloading little ones into the house begins. {It}, the steady rhythm of routine as he makes his way downstairs each morning, filling coffee cup, cracking open books, thin pages of Scripture turning as I linger in bed a few moments more before joining him. {It}, their perfect little bedheads rising to meet the day, rubbing sleep from their eyes as they settle into my lap for morning's first embrace. {It}, a home filled with music, little ones queuing up playlist after playlist, dancing freely before and after school. {It}, our love story, from the hallways of high school to a quiet suburban street in Fitchburg, a story only we could tell. The many years, months, days and moments shared, building a life that is uniquely ours. Waking this morning, with an urgency to put into words what is so strongly felt. The custom fit and feel of a love that most certainly isn't perfect, but that is ours, and I feel it, each and every day that I'm gifted life.
If I speak in the tongues of men and of angels, but have not love, I am only a resounding gong or a clanging cymbal. If I have the gift of prophecy and can fathom all mysteries and all knowledge, and if I have a faith that can move mountains, but have not love, I am nothing. If I give all I possess to the poor and surrender my body to the flames, but have not love, I gain nothing.
Love is patient, love is kind. It does not envy, it does not boast, it is not proud. It is not rude, it is not self-seeking, it is not easily angered, it keeps no records of wrong. Love does not delight in evil but rejoices with the truth. It always protects, always trusts, always hopes, always perseveres.
Love never fails.
1 Corinthians 13: 1-8a
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