unconditional love

Hello, blogging world - it's been a while.  I've semi-fallen off the grid for the last several months, for which I could offer loquacious explanations and apologies, but instead I'm going to opt to simply say, "here I am, I'm back."  While it is a healthy practice for me to write - and one which I hope to practice with a bit more regularity in the upcoming months - it is not one for which guilt is due in its neglect.  That being said, I am excited to re-enter the blogosphere, and am looking forward to this space to process, reflect, and share in the journey with others...

As I sit here, this Valentines day - with my two and a half week old son bundled and sleeping in a mobi wrap on my chest, currently making very contented noises that sound like small puppies yipping (don't ask me why, I don't know), running on 2 hours of sleep, because that's how long he slept in his crib last night  - for the first time, I believe ever, I feel the need to reflect on love on Valentines Day.

Please understand, this is a cardinal sin, if you are a V-day skeptic like me.  I am the woman who has, at various points in time, sworn off the holiday for any number of holy reasons - one who hates the commercialism and the self-loathing ("singles awareness" day vibes that tend to arise), refuses to wear red/pink/purple, etc. because everyone is doing it, went to see the most gory movie possible on V-day for a number of years because the chick-flicks were too stereotypical, buys her husband non-Valentines day cards for the week before, just on principle because red and pink cards get a dollar added to their price, and are often times too sappy, etc. etc. Yes, I have been a hater.  I can freely admit that.

But the reality is - today, I'm reflecting on love.   And maybe it's the two hours of sleep talking, maybe it's this new parenthood thing, but gosh darn it, here goes:

I have very little concept of what true, sacrificial, unconditional love is all about.  

I have been very blessed, to marry a man who loves me incredibly well.  Who chose me.  Who daily sacrifices for me.  Who loves me, even when I'm in a tearful ball on the floor, even when I'm screaming in pain or anger, who calls me beautiful at 9 months pregnant, who sticks with me, through thick and thin.  And I think we do have a really healthy marriage, where we do love each other in sacrificial and selfless ways.  Where forgiveness is required, and given, and love and acceptance and grace are daily choices.  I have seen true love in that relationship.  And am so incredibly grateful for this man that I have been given.  I am loved, I do love, and marriage has taught me immeasurably about the strength, the hard work, and the power, of every day love - as well as the sweetness of real love.

But this little 8 pound bundle of sleepless joy - who is adorably cute, but precociously refuses to sleep at nights by himself - is totally obliterating my sense that I had any previous concept of selfless love.

See the beauty of my relationship with Jon - and really with almost everyone else to - is that they have the capacity to return my love.  In other words, I almost always get something back for any expenditure of love that I make.  Not so with my infant son.  He is, for all effective purposes, a human leech - and I mean that in the cutest, best possible way.  Receiving, but not returning.  Demanding, but never saying thank you.  Needing, but never giving.

The closest thing we get to a thank you? Or love in return?  A completely uncontrolled milk coma grin, or a hefty deposit in the poop bank, aka diaper.

Please don't get me wrong - I fully trust that my son will love us, that at times in the future he will express gratitude. Nor am I in any way persuaded that it is necessary for love to be returned for it to be right and good.  And I absolutely, 100% love my son, regardless of his ability to return that love.

But perhaps that's simply my point:  for the first time, I have a picture of what it means to love someone else entirely selflessly, with no personal gain or return.

And friends, I am not good at this.  Case in point, last night, after an hour and a half of fighting with the wee one, trying to coax him into the sleep which he so desperately needed but was fighting against with true familial stubbornness, I had a complete melt down of anger and frustration - that my 2 week old son could not realize that after ALL I had done for him, the least he could do would be give me 2 hours of consecutive night-time sleep.  Tearful puddle on the floor - made worse by overactive mammary glands.  Unconditional, selfless love?  Hard.  Good.  But really hard.

But here's the truth for me today - while I get a teeny tiny glimpse of what it means to love another person unconditionally and selflessly, I also have a much bigger picture of what unconditional love looks like from my Father in heaven.  While my love ultimately is limited and conditional, and selfish, His love isn't:  no matter how messy I am, how many times I fail or fall, how much I rant and scream and fight against him, no matter how much I reject what I need and truly want from Him, how much I refuse to rest in Him - His love remains constant.  Not a weak love, that is walked all over for some vague sense of being needed or being some loosely defined ideal type of "giving" person, but a strong love that gives without strings or selfish motivations.  Freely given.  Unconditional.  Joyful, even.

Yes, like me, He longs for that love to be returned - for more than a weak sleep-induced grin in response - but His grace and love and compassion to me does not depend on it.

So today, in honor of either Valentines Day or sleep deprivation, rather than reflecting on the sappy sentiments of pink and red cards, I am reflecting on the strength of unconditional love from my Father, that I rest securely in, find freedom in, and long to know more of.  And asking Him for strength to mirror that in some small way, to those He places in my path, even at 3 in the morning.