Real Love Covers—Not Counts—Wrongs
Having abandoned my station at the kitchen stove, I crouched in the freshly fallen snow.
For my husband recognized the light in my eyes and told me to run outside before the last of the sun faded. He didn’t want me to miss the magic minutes of the winter-white-world outside our window, so he took over the cooking.
My camera clicked as I chose the subjects and the angles. Snow iced our home thick like a gingerbread house at Christmas. I spotted my family members, one by one, as each passed by the window closest to the supper that’s frying and spreading its bacon and sausage aroma out the vent and into the snowy garden I’m wandering around in—wandering in search of the perfect shot.
Perfection is the elusive prize photographers strive for each time the camera strap is placed over their heads. I’m no less passionate in my amateur pursuit of pictures that will woo the approving look that lingers.
This striving for perfection drives me to snap dozens of shots. This strive and drive remind me of motherhood and the wish to woo my children into a walk with the Perfect One. But I fear my imperfections have fanned the flames of unbelief more times than not. I’ve failed so much that my main lesson to them has been how to apologize for wrong–only to have to repeat it again and again because I can’t get it right.
And I’ve cried into the whiteness of my pillow as sure as the rain will weep into the whiteness of our garden. For coastal weather is neither hot nor cold; it’s lukewarm like I am—so much of the time.
But I keep wiping away the tears of disappointment in myself because I know from experience and observation family perfection doesn’t exist no matter how diligently a mother takes a shot at living up to the Proverb’s lady every woman loves to hate.
Real children don’t always call her blessed. Real husbands don’t always find their wives perfectly trustworthy in this fallen world where grace needs to fall as thickly as the snow crunching under my boots.
All families have them; things they can count against each other:
Real love covers wrongs; it doesn’t count them.
Love covers—not counts.
Later I look over the pictures. The snow and the glow of our home remind me of the future—a promised perfect Home—Heaven.
Night falls over town
As each home is tucked
Under the silence
Of freshly fallen snow
White and pure
As the loving grace of God
That covers the faithful
With the promise
Of Heaven’s glow.
Wendy / 2017
… but love covers over all wrongs. Proverbs 10:12 (NIV)
Blessings of Real Love ~ Wendy
What’s your favorite verse or quote about real love? I’m nosy-to-know.
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