I Am Loved

There are some kinds of love that just can not be recognized adequately with the frill of a lacy doily valentine or a box of chocolates. This love is not the kind represented by romantic feelings coaxed to the surface with a meal eaten by candlelight, or a decadent dessert. Not even cupid can conger this kind of love. It is the love God created in the heart's of mother and child, the unconditional kind, that burns internal, deep in one’s soul. On this Valentines’ Day it is this kind of powerful love that I celebrate by

sharing the many ways I feel it’s presence.

1. Those slobbery little kid kisses accompanied by the enthusiastic

wiggle of her head when she plants one on me as if to ensure a good

solid contact between our lips.

2. When she says, “mommy, I have a secret” knowing that when I put my ear to her rosebud mouth, the words uttered, in her best attempt of the quietness of a whisper, are always the same, “I wuv you!”

3. Experiencing the best part of my day that comes at 7:30pm when three sets of arms embrace in a huge family bear hug before tuck in, with a squeeze so tight that we all make those funny guttural and gasping sounds that come when one can’t possibly hold the air in their bursting lungs any longer. Followed by the stall, "Mommy, can we talk about our days?"

4. When, for the thousandth time, she unsuccessfully tries to to hold my hand by inner twining my extra long fingers with her short little ones, and realizing through the hint of another measured growth spurt, that one day this will be possible.

5. Sharing the exuberant joy she feels when she can finally reach the pedals on her t

rike, open the refrigerator by herself, put on her own mittens or write her own name. To her, the ability to accomplish such tasks with me as her witness is magic.

6. To hear the appreciation in her polite and tiny voice when she thanks me for preparing her dinner, or washing her clothes, or handing her a glass of juice. I will never tire of hearing those over enthusiastic phrases, “Oh, tank you, mommy” or “Dat was soooo nice of you.”

7. The repetition of the conversation, “Mommy, are we best friends?” I say, “Yes, and....” and before I can finish, she blurts “...I can tell you anything!” Yep, that’s right, sugar...any time and any where.

8. The delight she gets out of pointing out the three specific polka-dots God gave her, two on one of her hands and one on her ear, followed by poking me all over with her two index fingers, in a tickling fashion, trying to pin point all of mine.

9. When for no apparent reason she stops what she is doing, lifts her arms up to me and asks, “Mommy, can you hold me, please?”, knowing that it is the security we feel in each others' arms that she seeks.

10. Lastly, feeling that thick liquid sense of awe that fills me up from my toes to the brim of my eyelids, every time I feel the warmth of the bare skin of her back under my own warm hand. It overwhelms me every time, as I try to comprehend how one person could ever be worthy of this wonderful gift of this child’s love.