I see you girls there making something special for our Valentines Day dinner. Your cutting heart biscuits and I’m thinking about how the whole muck of us makes a house of love.
How we are so broken and there are days when love feels like its just picked itself up and walked right out the door. And I’m sorry. Those are the days to fall on our knees harder and sometimes we do and sometimes we fall to pride, but I see that in our brokenness our house is being made into a house of love, one fall after another.
There may be short tempers, tears falling, and voices rising. Patience may be in short supply.
Hearts might want to close themselves right up.
Days we all want to run our separate ways and I wonder just how in the world are we building a house of love in the midst of all of this broken and then I see it…
The grace everywhere, the love that comes slowly, stronger, year after year.
The kind word spoken or sweet deed done. Working together, the compassion for a sister, the closing of mouths, holding of tongues. Saying were sorry.
The flowers for no reason or making breakfast for the brood. We lend a hand, spell a word, or read a book. Our voices lower, our hearts soften and we slowly become a house of love.
It takes dyeing to self and seeking the light and it is becoming lighter even on the darker days.
We set the table. Make the meals. Share the bread. Write love notes to give and come back to the year through.
This, this is what making a house of love is and I am grateful that His grace is growing here and the hope of love will burn deeper and brighter as He makes His way with us.
We pray for this.
All of us the broken, making our way towards true Love, so we can love… well.