Loving in Particular

Mommy, you love me.

Yes, I love you so much, Luca.

Thus begins our daily nap litany. His face is about two inches from mine, his hand cupped behind my neck. He looks straight in my eyes.

And Daddy loves me. Theo, my brouduh loves me.

Some days, he expands to his grandparents and other family members, teachers and friends. Some days he includes Theo’s friends, by name, even if he’s only met them once. One of my favorites is when he says, Luca loves me.

My heart swells. Every. Single. Time. I love that he’s not asking me, he’s telling me. Like he’s so very sure. And he just wants to remind us both of the love we know, before he closes his eyes and drifts into his sweet little sleep.

I love that he gets specific. Not just a general sense of being loved, but there are specific people with names and faces who love on him, and he feels it. Filling up his little love cup to overflowing, which then spills over into ours'.

I wonder if we could all use a little love litany of our own. Naming off all the people who love on us in specific, incarnate ways.

I also wonder if we need a little nudge to love on our people, not just in the abstract, not just in groups - family, friends, my church family--but on souls with specific names and faces. And not just think of them with love, or hold warm feelings toward them but to extend care in specific, incarnate ways--send the message, show up and listen, express affirmation and gratitude, feed them yummy food, call to check in.

God knows, there are a lot of dry or half empty cups out there these days. So many things - the bitter politics of our day, the pandemic, the busyness and overwhelm, social media--have pulled us away from one another. And we can get so caught up in checking off to do lists, taking in all sorts of activity and information, managing all the logistics, such that whole days can pass without any personal connection, especially interactions of care and kindness. Even with people we love, that we live with or see every day, we can miss those moments of real, loving connection. I imagine we all know that experience of being around other people, but not really with them, going through the motions, but somehow missing one another. And our cups runneth dry.

I know, it can feel overwhelming the amount of pain, loss and brokenness in our world right now. How can we possibly love and bear all that suffering? Or reciprocally, how can we delight in all the beauty, goodness and gift in the world? There’s just so much.

We went to a fall festival Saturday. One of the attractions was a u-pick flower section of the farm. There were fields of thousands, perhaps millions of zinnias. Taken all together, they were a bit of a blur, almost an assault on my senses. But then I just started looking at individual blooms, and being blown away by their particular exquisite beauty. I couldn’t love the whole field; but I absolutely fell in love with the ten bright flower faces I picked to bring home.

When we feel overwhelmed by the sheer volume of life, both the gift and hardship, the beauty and suffering, all the people we want to know and love, I wonder if Luca might be onto something. Get specific. Get personal. Enjoy the sound of particular names on your tongue, delight in particular faces, reach out with particular words and presence and kindness, pour love into a particular cup. I’m sure those dear ones would love to drift off to sleep knowing you love them.

Here's to filling each other's cups.