What His love must be like

The gang and I spent Monday visiting our friends down in Bonsall, California.

It was a great time of trampoline jumping and swimming for the kids and coffee and catching up for us moms.

On the way home, the older two were working on some homework. Now, before you are too impressed with how studious my children are, let me add a dose of reality. The only reason that they were working quietly on their assignments is because I had bribed them to leave their electronics at home for the day. 

Hey guys, I have an offer for you. If you leave all your stuff at home, like totally unplug, not only will we have an awesome super fun day, but I will surprise you with a special dinner stop on the way home that is really cool. 

They wanted a guarantee that it was, in fact,  a really cool surprise by their standards and not mine, which they said were often disappointing and then they were in. They went for it.

So there we were, driving home, the little one watching Barbie on my lap top (okay, so we didn’t totally unplug) while the older two finished up some reading. There were a few comments here and there.

“Mom, can you turn on the air”

“Brooke, you’re squishing me.”

You know, the usual stuff  that I kind of semi- hear, but don’t really pat attention to. And then Brooke said something and for some reason it caught me even though I didn’t hear the words.

What did you say, hon. 


I hate when they do that.

Babe, I missed it. 

“She said, she really loves you, Mom.” Jake piped in, covering for her silence.

You said that. 

She looks up slowly, having difficulty pulling her eyes away from her book, and smiled.

And there it was. Just like that. I was driving. I didn’t do anything. And she loves me.

I let it sit. She loves me. 

She took me in, her mom, all messy and screwed up; she assessed it all and determined that she loved me.

And I wonder, dear sisters, if that is what His love is like.

I can imagine him sitting beside me in the car, just taking me in. I’m not performing or trying to come up with something brilliant to say. I’m not doing anything at all…  and then He softly whispers, “Dear one, I just really love you.”

I look over, not sure what to make of this. Really?  Is that enough, to just be?

That’s it. He just really loves me- me- Alisa- just being me.

Isn’t that enough, dear sisters? Can we let that one sit? Can we hear Him say to us;

Dear ones, I took you in, all messy and screwed up. I assessed it all and determined that I loved you. You don’t need to do anything. I love you…being you.

I do, dear ones. I love you. I’m crazy about you. Let that be enough. 








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