limitless love

One night last week Asher wouldn't kiss me. He kissed everyone else--grandparents and great-grandparents--but not his mama. And it broke my heart. In fact, it threw my entire evening into a funk. I felt so rejected. So unwanted. And nothing Josh could say could make me feel better, because nothing he could say could remedy the fact that my baby boy refused to kiss me. I moped all night. I cried and eventually retreated in the far recesses of my mind, almost daydreaming.

(I wonder if this is how our Father in Heaven feels when we turn our backs on Him. Is this how He feels when we rebel? When we turn away? Because if it is, then I never want to do anything to inflict that hurt ever again.)

I know this instance is minor in the scheme of things. I know that later in Asher's life he might say hurtful things intentionally, that he'll turn his back on me occasionally. I know this, though that doesn't change the hurt I feel when my baby boy refuses to give me a kiss. That pain cuts deep, even when my son is a mere toddler.

Then, my consciousness came back and all that pain I felt was gone. Gone. All I felt was love. I don't feel that hurt anymore.

 I don't feel it, because love crowded it out.

I wake up in the morning with love in my heart and actions, because love is great. Love is greater than self-pity, greater than hurt. In the span of 30 minutes I felt all of my pain and hurt and rejection replaced with limitless love. That's what motherhood is: limitless, unbounded love, grace enacted. What I felt that night was literally miraculous. Miraculous.

Motherhood is miraculous.

No matter how many kisses he won't give, I will love him. I will keep giving and giving because, when it comes to my babe, that's all my soul knows how to do. My Savior replaced my hurt with limitless love. I feel like I reached a new understanding of Jesus Christ, an understanding that literally erased my hurt and filled it with grace overflowing.

Now I'm going to tip-toe into the nursery and gaze on my child. He is so wondrous to me, and I am so in awe of everything he is and we are together. He is mine, even when he pretends otherwise. I am his, even when he doesn't notice. We are divinely designed and divinely paired, he and I. I am his mother, kisses or not. 


Sonia said...

So beautiful. I understand that feeling of rejection so well. Sara was a daddy's girl and didn't want me when she was little, even though he was at work, she didn't want to have anything to do with me. Man it hurt, but I learned that she wasn't rejecting me so much, just learning and growing and pushing her boundaries as it were. Thank you for your wonderful insights into how our Father in Heaven must feel. I so loved that.

Jill said...

I totally understand the hurt you experienced with this and have thought the same thing about how Heavenly Father must feel when we turn our backs on Him. I went through something like this yesterday (Mother's Day) and was feeling seriously wounded until about half way through today and then it was gone (apparently squeezed out by love, who knew?).

Ande said...

Thank you for putting into words what I feel! Zeph started hitting me a while back. He doesn't hit anyone but me. And he does it when he's mad. I was so frustrated and hurt. I was so sad that real parenting, vs just care taking was beginning. I was so sad he was choosing to be naughty. And then I wasn't. And this is why, I just didn't know it until I read this!

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