What is love? Truly, I believe I love well, but patience is not one of my superpowers. I have been known to be jealous and brag. And I have shamed another, sought to promote my self, gotten mad, easily. Furthermore, I reject the list of wrongs I have recorded, yet they still come to mind on occasion. Rarely do I cheer for the bad guy, still I know I am capable of doing so.
And I have failed to protect and trust.
My hope has faltered and heaven knows, I have given up on more than one occasion.
Failure has been my triumph more often than not.
Still, I believe, I love.
On a recent trip to Walmart, my humanness was more obvious than the spirit of Love I have been gifted.
In a blaze, a HUGE, suped-up truck with an offensive collection of bumper stickers, whipped around me. The pounding of his “too loud” stereo rattled my teeth and sent vibrations through my little red Bettle.
As I tossed discuss to the curb, I was further assaulted by the driver of the truck when I noticed him jerk to the front of the store and park in the fire lane. As I made my way inside his “music” alerted me to his relentless rage on the environment, as he left the monstrosity running, tunes blaring. He savagely pushed past me and others. The door greeter handed him a mask, a requirement to enter the store, and he took it and… threw it on the ground.
My blood boiled. As I squeezed and thumped on melons, I took note of him storming the self-checkout, barking, “MOVE!” at an elderly man.
I lost sight of him after that, but his indecency followed, clipping at my heels.
And then I spied a little girl, maybe three, chasing after her mother with a doll she was desperate to have. After a few moments of negotiations, the mother returned the doll to the shelf and tried to ignore the wailing cries of her disappointed darling.
She was darling. Tear stained cheeks, a furrowed brow, consumed with grief and rage, she was still daughter. And my thoughts turned back to the abrasive man, someone’s son. Somehow, love sparked in me. Not only was the “yucky” character once someone’s darling boy, he was still created by my Father in Heaven.
I confess, it is not always my first instinct to love in human form, but maybe if I stop and consider what it means to love as God loves, I would see more of what He sees and less of what leaves me seething.
I have no proof it matters. I hope to never run into this intrusive fellow again. Still, I pray whatever motivates him to act careless, selfishly, does not impact more hate, but offers instead the gifts of love.
If love were always my response, how much more of it would I encounter?
Love is patient, love is kind. 1 Corinthians 13:4
by Jami Amerine
Jami Amerine is an author, speaker, artist, wife, and mom. She and her husband, Justin live in Houston, Texas and have six children. She holds a Master’s of Education in Counseling and Human Development. Jami and Justin are advocates for foster care and adoption. Jami blogs at sacredgroundstickyfloors.com.
