This is love

One day, I’m sure each of my daughters will say to me, in the middle of some fit of rage, “Don’t you love me?” And I’ll remind them of all the times I’ve cleaned up after their pee, poop, barf, snot, drool and tears, all the weird requests (read: demands) they’ve made, all the tantrums I’ve gone through. “I’ve put up with you through the past (X) years, just like my parents put up with me, and your Mommy’s parents put up with her. Someone who didn’t love you would have tossed you out in the cold long ago. This is love.”

One day, I’m sure my wife will say to me, in the middle of some fit of rage, “Don’t you love me?” And I’ll remind her that for the past (X) years I’ve sold my time and energy to my job, brought home the money and given it to her for our family’s use. I haven’t kept any off to the side for my use, or held anything back. “I’ve jumped through the ridiculous hoops you’ve put up, and tagged along with all your grandiose plans that so quickly evaporated. Someone who didn’t love you would have tossed you out in the cold long ago. This is love.”

One day, I’m sure I’ll say to God, in the middle of some fit of rage, “Don’t you love me?” And he’ll remind me of every blessing, given freely, to someone who never deserved any of it, despite countless failures and outright insults to his grace and mercy. “I’ve given everything for you, in a way that you’ll never understand, even as a husband and father. Someone who didn’t love you would have tossed you out in the cold long ago. I am love.”

I’m such a child.

Still growing up,

“Rocky”

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