What Remains

I read this and wept. If my heart could write, these
are the words it would say.


If I spend my days building skyscrapers with blocks,
assembling cool stuff out of LEGO's and creating
relationships with other moms at Starbucks, but have
not love, I am only the siren of the kids' ride on fire
truck, annoyingly stuck on hold.

If I have the gift of knowing which child attempted
to flush the Hot Wheels down the toilet and which one
pushed her sister, and if I have faith that somehow
we'll survive life's emergencies, but have not love, I
am nothing.

If I save all my box tops for school and give outgrown
clothing to the local shelter, and if I surrender my body
to stretch marks and under eye circles (without the
benefit of botox, tanning salons, or diet bars), but have
not love, I gain nothing.

Love is patient when someone isn't ready to use the
big girl potty. It is kind when my husband has a hard
day. It doesn't envy my neighbor who drives the new
sport utility vehicle I can't afford.

It is not rude, snapping at my spouse or children when
things don't go my way. It is not easily angered at
perceived or real injustices.

It always protects the smallest, sweetest family
confidences; always trusts God to provide my children's
needs; always hopes in the freshness of tomorrow
and the bright future of family; always perseveres amid
hardship and doubt.

Where there are sleepless nights, they shall end. Where
there are diapers, Little leagues and dioramas built from
shoe boxes, they will cease. Where there is knowledge
of baby care trends, discipline strategies and boy-girl
problems, it will pass away.

Now these three remain: faith, lived out in my daily
circumstances and instilled in my children; hope, of one
day rejoicing with my family in heaven; and love, which
covers over a multitude of less than perfect moments.

But the greatest of these is love. It is what remains.....
long after I am gone.

Written by Cindy Sigler Dagnan for Focus on the Family