TITLE: "I love you this much" 03.27.15
By Trace Pezzali
SEND A PRIVATE COMMENT
SEND ARTICLE TO A FRIEND
It is a weekday, and the three of us are enjoying our picnic in the backyard. Daddy (Hubby) is away at work. The banana honey pancakes have been devoured. The culprit of masticated, then discarded, cherry tomatoes is obvious by the squirted jellied pips on Joshua’s chin. Only the mushiest pieces of watermelon remain, and the carrot sticks are dull in short time.
The sun’s bite is lessened by brimmed hats and a cool breeze, to which I lift my face for its caress. Magpies warble their song of the Australian bush from telegraph wires. To our fascination, scurrying, flying, and crawling insects are busy in a world of their own.
Jumping to stand, Emily declares, “Mummy, I love you this much,” and stretches her hands behind her back as far as they can go. Copying his sister, Joshua overbalances, tumbling onto the blanket with a giggle. I draw them both into my arms for a big hug that reduces them to squeals and giggles when the kissing monster takes over. They are now squirming caterpillars vulnerable against an attack of the tickles. I thrill at their laughter.
When this sport wanes, I say, “My heart is overflowing with love for both of you, yet as much as I love you, God loves you even more!” I lean toward them and whisper dramatically, “Do you want to know why?” Two little heads nod in response. “Because love comes from God.”
“Where is God?” Emily asks.
“Close your eyes.” Emily does so, enviable eyelashes dark against flawless skin. After a swift look at his role model, Joshua follows suit. The breeze lifts fine tendrils of hair. “Can you feel the wind?” Emily nods. “He is like that. Everywhere but invisible. He always hears when we talk to Him, and He knows the answers to our questions.”
A frown crosses my daughter’s face. She opens her eyes. “But I can’t hear Him.”
“He talks when we read the bible. He tells us stories, and teaches us what is good to do, and why bad things make us feel yucky - like when we lie, or don’t share. And He tells us over and over -,” here I punctuate my words with kisses rained on them both, “I love you, I love you, I love you, I love you.”
We spend the next hour focussed on the microcosm. Ants heft huge crumbs onto their backs and march in line, entering into the sandy volcano-like mountains they’ve made. Shimmering purple, black beetles labour through blades of grass as if they are cresting ocean waves. Joshua noisily points at a hovering turquoise dragonfly, and tries to follow its erratic darting dance. We keep clear of the wasps, but hazard watching bees cover their legs with pollen.
I explain how God cares for them all, making sure the insects have enough to eat, and shelter when they need it. Emily distinguishes the daddies and mummies and their children – the brothers, sisters, cousins and friends.
My gaze constantly lingers on Emily and Joshua who are absorbed in wonder. They are deeply precious, and I know that God sees us all as such: precious and incredibly valuable.
The opinions expressed by authors may not necessarily reflect the opinion of FaithWriters.com.