To love like Leah does

People hear God speak to them in all kinds of ways.  Some through a beautiful scene in nature, some in prayer, some through music. I often hear God in my 3 year old daughter.  Let me explain...

Lately, loving like Jesus did (does) has been on my heart.  There are a lot of things I don't fully understand about what the bible is saying, but the one thing I am clear on is that we are to love others.  While the simplicity of it is nice, at times, it is an overwhelming and daunting concept for me.  Because when I am tired (which is often when you are 6 months pregnant, and home with a 2 year old and just-about-4 year old), I don't feel very loving.  I feel frustrated and somewhat annoyed and well, just tired.  And so these are the moments when I just have to ask, God, how do I do it?

Then I look at my daughter.  Sometimes the best examples are right in front of your eyes.

Leah is my mini-mommy.  She tends to her friends (both real and pretend), her family, and her pets like it's her job.  (It's amazing to me how naturally different boys and girls were created.  Thus far, we've raised our two similarly and yet the nurturing gene runs much stronger in Leah than it does in Isaac.  For instance, one day I went to wake her from her nap and found that every one of her "friends" [stuffed animals] and dolls was tucked into individual beds she made out of blankets and towels from the closet.  The floor was literally covered in mini-beds with sleeping friends, all tucked in tightly.  Leah herself had fallen asleep in the glider, while rocking her favorite doll to sleep.)  Luckily for me, her care-taking tendencies are mostly directed towards her little brother.  When Isaac falls down and hurts himself, she (sometimes roughly) helps him up and whispers, What's wrong, Isaac?  I'm sorry you got hurt.  You're ok, you're ok, until he settles down again.  The other morning around 5, I heard Isaac crying in his crib.  I laid there in bed, trying to determine if he would fall back asleep himself, or if I would have to get my sleepy self up to tend to him.  Then I heard the sound of Leah getting out of bed and climbing into his crib, followed up with her gently soothing him and telling him that she would take care of him.  They fell back asleep snuggled up together until about 7 or so.  I fell back asleep with a thankful smile on my face and a warm heart.

Now don't get me wrong; Leah is not perfect.  She gets mad at Isaac as well, and sometimes she is the cause of his crying and injuries.  He tortures her like any little brother can torture his older sister-- smacking, kicking, taking toys, knocking down carefully built creations, and most recently, biting (more on that in a minute).  But she doesn't focus on all the frustrating things Isaac does and hold a grudge towards him.  She openly tends to, nurtures, and loves him all the same.  And I can't help but think-what if I followed her lead in the relationships in my life?  What if, instead of dwelling on the frustrations that being close with people can sometimes bring, I focused on the companionship and love we have towards one another?  (Don't we do that with our own children?  And why is it so hard to extend that towards adults as well?) What if I chose to let my heart lead my mind, instead of my wounded pride/ego?

Yesterday morning I was picking up a few things around the house, when Leah came running to me crying because Isaac had bit her "really, really hard" on her arm.  (Hardly a mark in sight, I tell you.)  Isaac went to time-out and when he was done, I gave him the standard "do you know why you are in time-out, we don't bite talk".  As he was getting up to give Leah a hug and say he's sorry, she came over and said, No, Isaac, don't worry.  I'll come to you.  At which point she hugged him, said I forgive you, and they went on their merry way.  Later on it struck me how quickly she was ready to forgive him.  How she didn't stand there and wait for him to come to her, but instead how she went to him, with her arms open.  What if, instead of quietly tending our own wounds, we went with open hearts and arms to those who have wounded us?  What if we chose to love willingly, forgivingly?

My last example, I promise.  A few weeks ago, one of the light bulbs over the kitchen table died.  There are two lights up there, and while it was slightly annoying to have half of the family eating in dim lighting, it wasn't annoying enough for me to fix it.  (That would require going to the basement to get a bulb [Stairs?  No, thank you.], climbing up on the table, and then cleaning up all the crud that somehow seems to gather on a light bulb that had fallen on the table.)  After about 2 days, Jared fixed it.  Leah watched in amazement, dancing and exclaiming, Wow, Daddy! You saaaaaaaaved the day!!!!  She was so appreciative of this little task, which in turn, made me appreciative of this little task.  Was it a big deal for Jared to change a light bulb?  No.  But it was a task I didn't want to do, and without asking, he did it.  And I thought, why do we only feel the need to appreciate the big things others do for us, the out of the ordinary things?  What if I showed my husband the same appreciation for changing a light bulb that Leah showed him?  (I don't necessarily mean dancing around the kitchen and singing, but a kiss and a thank you ought to do it.)  I can't help but think how amazing all of our relationships could be if we actually chose to appreciate all the wonderfully ordinary things we do for each other on a daily basis.

In Matthew 18, verses 1-4 Jesus and his disciples are having a discussion on who is the greatest in heaven.  Jesus called a little child over to him and said: "I tell you the truth, unless you change and become like little children, you will never enter the kingdom of heaven.  Therefore, whoever humbles himself like this child is the greatest in the kingdom of heaven." 

I realize my daughter is not extraordinary (although I think she is).  But she is one of 2 children I am around all day, every day.  Leah and Isaac are my living examples and reminders of how open and free love is from a child.  How forgiving, natural, and unceasing love can be.  They show me the way God wants us to love, without having all the filters, blinders, and biases that life experiences can bring. 

Thank you, Lord, for the love you've given me, and for the two little blessings who probably teach me more than I teach them.  May their hearts always be open, and may mine be more like theirs with each passing day.