Love with a love that is more than love

I've been a mom for three years now, give or take a few months. The other day I was thinking about the unconditional love that kids have for their parents. I read somewhere that children don't easily lose the love they bear for their parents, no matter how verbally and physically abused they become. And it made me think about how my kids express that love.

Take Faith, for instance. She's only a little over a year old and is a very fierce little girl. She's the type who won't take no for an answer, who is so utterly fearless that she throws herself fully into every activity. Who barrels her way through her big brother and other obstacles just to get to whatever it is she is trying to reach for. And yet, I can confidently say that she loves me best. It's in the way she makes her way towards me and hugs my legs begging me to pick her up every time I arrive home from work. The way she snuggles her head into the crook of my neck and refuses to go with her yaya or her grandma. The way she bangs her hands against the bathroom door (together with Josh) wailing out loud if I so much as take a bathroom break before their bedtime. And especially the way that she seeks comfort from me alone (whenever I'm around of course) when she gets an ouch -- "no thanks but I want my mommy", is what i imagine her thought balloon is during those moments. My little Faith-Faith (as Joshua is fond of calling her) who does not stay still for more than 4 seconds (I counted!) but is like a contented cow in bed as long as I am lying next to her.

And Josh, of course, who, despite having his own favorite people (my sister and his grandma & grandpa), will also not accept any substitute when I am around. My heart sometimes feels like it's going to burst every time he whispers, "I love you mommy" even after I've scolded him or given him a time out for hurting his sister. The generosity of his spirit is amazing. Imagine saying "i love you" to someone who pissed you off (even if you deserved it!). Josh, with his death grip on my hands (and sometimes my neck) during bedtime, running my fingers all over his face until he falls asleep.

I feel so privileged at the gift of my children. And though sometimes I feel like such a rat for complaining, more often than not, I am thankful for being given little glimpses of God in the things that they do.