If I learned how to handcraft artisan shoes for my child for St. Nicholas’s feast day, but have not love, I’m only a stressed out mom going overboard. And if I read and share all the best Advent quotes, and meal plan every day according to the liturgical calendar, and if I even remember to order wheat from Amazon to plant on St. Lucy’s day, but have not love, I am nothing. If I KonMari away everything I have, and if I deliver up my body to childbearing and breastfeeding, but have not love, I gain nothing.
Love is patient (when my toddler wants to do something “by myself” yet again);
Love is kind (when I want to roll my eyes at a friend’s seeming melodrama);
Love does not envy or boast (when I feel insecure about someone else’s beauty or choices);
It is not arrogant (when I think I can do more than everyone else because, apparently, I’m exceptional)
Or rude (when I make my child be polite, but don’t apply the same standards to myself);
it does not insist on its own way (when my mom offers a truly wise suggestion);
it is not irritable (when am I not irritable?)
or resentful (when I think about my husband getting to work without interruptions);
it does not rejoice in wrongdoing, but rejoices at the truth.
Love bears all things, believes all things, hopes all things, endures all things.
Love never fails.