a friend just sent me this:
1 Corinthians 13 (for Moms)
I can read bedtime stories till the cow jumps over the moon, and sing "Ten Little Monkeys" until I want to call the doctor-- but if I don't have love, I'm as annoying as a ringing phone twelve times a day for a pre-teen.
I can chase a naked toddler through the house while cooking dinner and listening to voice mail, fix the best cookies and Kool-Aid, and tell a sick child's temperature with one touch of my finger, but if I don't have love, I am as empty as the cereal packet I asked you to throw out when you take the last bowl, please.
Love is patient while watching and praying by the front window when it's 30 minutes past curfew.
Love is kind when a teen says, "I hate you!"
It does not envy the neighbors' swimming pool or their brand-new car, but trusts our needs will be met.
Love does not brag when other parents share their disappointments and insecurities, and rejoices when other families succeed. It doesn't boast, even when I've multi-tasked all day long and my husband can't do more than one thing at a time.
Love is not rude when someone innocently asks, "What have you done today?" It does not immediately seek after glory when we see talent in our children, but encourages them to get training and make wise choices.
It is not easily angered, even when my 15-year-old acts like the world revolves around them. It does not delight in evil (is not self-righteous) when reminding my 17-year-old that he's/she's now going 83 in a 55-mph zone, but rejoices in the truth quietly and firmly, with eyes closed and one hand on the parking brake.
Love does not give up hope. It always protects our children's self-esteem and spirit, even while dealing out discipline. It always hopes and trusts life will protect our children when we cannot. It always perseveres, through blue nail polish, bodily functions, rolled eyes, dietary fads, messy rooms and sleep-overs.
Love never fails, though sometimes it's a bit of a jump-start.
Where there are memories of thousands of diaper changes and painful labor, they will fade away. Where there is talking back, it will (eventually) cease. Where there is a teenager who thinks he/she knows everything, there will one day be an adult who knows you did your best.
For we worry that we fail our children, and we pray they ( or we ) don't end up in therapy, but when we get to heaven, and for a lucky few maybe even before then, our imperfect parenting will disappear.
When we were children, we acted like children- and now we understand about seeing in a glass darkly, for now we see face to face, sometimes several times a day.
And now these three remain: faith, hope and love.
But the greatest of these is love.
