“Mommy no love Djou.”
Those were the words that came out of my son’s mouth this morning as he watched me hug and kiss his older brother.
It caught me by surprise, and yet I’ve been watching for moments like these.
I looked over at him standing there, head hung low, with his massive frown. I went over to him and took his face in my hands and tried to find the right words to say, with my limited creole and his limited English. Oh how I begged God in that moment for him to understand that my love is never divided. My heart hurt for the years I didn’t have with him, the years that factored into this moment where he thought my affection elsewhere meant no affection for him.
These are the red-flag moments that have me scurrying to my adoption books, looking for answers and correct responses. But in the middle of my page flipping, God whispered to my heart. “Djou’s response is, yes, that of an orphan who didn’t have you for the first four years of life, but his response reminds me of you. How long will you believe my love is for everyone else, and not you? How long will you believe the lie that I don’t delight in you as much as those around you? My heart hurts like yours does in those moments that your son claims you don’t love him.”
I didn’t even realize I had been doing it…believing the lie that God isn’t as into me as he is others. I listen to my favorite podcasts, I read my favorite authors who write in the loveliest of ways and they breathe God’s love for them, I read through the blogs of women who are living out God’s mission in the far corners of the earth, or I listen to speakers who communicate so well all the things of God and have the ear of thousands. I have no desire to be these people, but somehow I started to believe that God is for THESE people more than He is for me. Those who are OUT THERE, being the hands and feet of Jesus.
In so many ways I see myself in my son. And as I yearn to tell him the truth of who he is and what he means to me, I find I need to learn it too.
I need to believe that God loves me and is for me, even when I fail in the every day. I need to believe that washing the dishes, changing sheets, mopping floors, making dinner, and educating my children are just as worthy as speaking to the masses. My delight rests in pouring into these little souls God has entrusted to me. Serving and loving them to the best of my ability and asking God to fill in the gaps.
Just as I yearn for my son to KNOW my love for him, God desires for me to KNOW His love for me. And if I still struggle with this after following the Lord for thirty years, I will simply grow in patience and understanding that my son might not grasp my love for him today, and that’s ok. My love won’t change. And neither will God’s.