My three year old bubby tugs a muscle shirt over his head, throws his arms wrongly in front of him, with elbows bent, hands in tight fists. Dimples, deep like caverns, flash. Eyes sparkle.
I squeeze his lumpy arms and tickle. He squirms and giggles as I peck every last bit of exposed, pale flesh.
In laughter he breaks free and runs.
Later I hear him tell his sissy while flexing, “Muscles mean you’re strong.”
And I can’t help smiling over this little one who is beloved. This bubby who knows it, because I make sure he does.
And as I walk the house from task to task, my eyes fall on the many ways that I’m shown love. The roses on the mantle. The Bible laid open on the arm of the couch. The card sissy made with the glue and the glitter — the sketch of a heart.
My world is a serenade.
I am beloved.
And when my own heart is opened to love, I find that my heart is opened to be loved.
And I remember that there’s no greater love than this: “that a man lay down His life for his friends,” John 15:13.
Thank you Jesus for bearing the cross. For in this, You have shown that I am beloved.
Linking up with Lisa-Jo and the Five Minute Friday community on the prompt, beloved.