Sometimes love burns as it pours out; it hurts me, because it pours out on a little one who suffers. It hurts to give that kind of love, and yet, how can we not when our children suffer?
This morning, love meant picking wet cat food out of my family’s underclothes.
He wanted to play with the dog in the basement, and I let him, so I could catch my breath and think.
[portions of this story have been censored]
(Update Thursday PM: He did.)