I yuv you. My heart has never felt so full, yet broken all at the same time. The words I have repeated a million times a day since the moment we first met, are now being spoken in return--I yuv you, running up and squeezing my bare leg. Bending down to pick her up my heart pounds. Kissing her hard, my tears stick to her skin. Heaving for air, I love you.
After reading Ann's post I hear His I love you, bellowing from above, below, from the right, and left. Smashing me from every direction His very breath can be felt as He speaks it again, I love you.
what great love the Father has lavished on us, that we should be called children of God!
His love breaks me into a million pieces, like glass shattering on the floor.
Lord, when will they ever know this authenticity? When will the name Jesus be given the utmost for the highest? What can I do or say to make them see the counterfeit they have been given?
And then Anna
moves her sister with arms flung back to stand in front of her friend
with her arms thrown back — and there they are, on a Sunday morning in
Africa: the seeking with arms spread open like a Cross.
“This, my friends, this is what Love is.”
“A life laid down is a Life to Love.”
Looking to the wall in my kitchen I see the cross I hung to remember, everyday, your death.
I yuv you.
It's the love made from your blood.
I yuv you.
That one woman with no shoes and no husband and 7 kids, walk up to the front of the church and put this bag of beans into the basket as her love offering to God.
41 Jesus sat down opposite the place where the offerings were put and watched the crowd putting their money into the temple treasury. Many rich people threw in large amounts. 42 But a poor widow came and put in two very small copper coins, worth only a few cents.
43 Calling his disciples to him, Jesus said, “Truly I tell you, this poor widow has put more into the treasury than all the others. 44 They all gave out of their wealth; but she, out of her poverty, put in everything—all she had to live on.” Mark 12:41-44
I yuv you.
Feeling much like the child I hold, I cry out-- I love you.
She looks me in the face, with eyes that might as well be His, I yuv you.