It is Love.

It is Love that wakes me each morning.
He whispers,
"Come.
Sit with Me
and linger awhile over coffee.
Hold to me tightly because
today,
you will need Me."
And before the cries and giggles of my little ones have met my ears, I have heard
Love.
I have let His words fill my heart and my mind so that it is He who overflows to my children.

It is Love that catches me winging toward rage and
holds my tongue and
whispers, softly,
"Wait.
Wait.
Be still.
Do not forget Me."
It is hard to remember Love's words with
anger in my heart and
malice on my tongue and
spit-up on my shirt.
"I'm here," He says.
"Let Me speak."

It is Love that folds tiny hands in mine to cross the street or play a game or say a prayer.
It is Love that envelops a little heart so shaken by a 2am nightmare and holds it tightly 'till all is well. It is Love that lifts embarrassed eyes, brought low by repeated failure, and says, "Do not fear.
I am with you,
and you are Mine."

It is not me.

It is Love.

And when my strength is fading, and when my patience has withered, I call out to Love,
"I don't have enough" I cry.
"I know," says Love, "I know."
And Love holds me close and fills in what I lack.
"I will give you what you need," He says,
"keep
your eyes
on Me."

It is Love that holds my hand at the end of a weary day,
pulling me
gently,
one step at a time.
"A few more dishes.
A few more moments."
The deep breaths of sleeping babes float in and out of rooms as He says,
"I know.
They do not see.
But I do.
Come now, I will help."

It is Love that opens up my ears to hear
little voices that need affirmation,
a husband who needs his wife's undivided attention,
a neighbor who needs a hot meal,
a friend who needs a sounding board,
a sister who needs advice, or
a mother who needs to remember she matters.
And I have enough to share
because He sat with me,
early in the morning.