Why Do I Love You?


Have you ever wondered why you love? Why you love another?

I loved my grandmother dearly. But why?

She loved me first.
She spent time with me.
I belonged to her, and she claimed me. 
She told me bedtime stories.
She rubbed my feet till I fell asleep.
I always had an open invitation to her home. I knew it. She made sure I knew it.
I’d always be her baby, no matter how big I got. She told me so.
She wanted to know my favorite foods so she could make them for me.
She’d sacrifice for me without grudge (that last piece of cherry cheesecake).
She’d forgive me for anything.


Oh, as kids, my sister and I played to our hearts’ content at my grandparents’ country place outside of Atlanta, Texas. We played in the sand. There was a huge sand pile by her house. We’d spend hours there. Then, we’d wander barefoot down her sandy driveway and spend a few more hours, in the shade of the hovering pine trees that lined her drive. We’d write in the sand, draw, play games in it, build castles, cover our feet in it, dig our toes through it. It was so cool, even in extreme heat. We’d find broken rocks in the sand that looked like puzzles and we’d admire them, admire how they fit together, and we’d  piece them back together. My grandmother watched us from her kitchen window as she did the dishes and worked.


My girls playing in the sand at my grandmother’s home.











My grandmother would let us sit in her wheelbarrow, and she’d push us around the yard, while we giggled ourselves silly.

She kept us in the latest fashions. Luv-It Jeans and Yo-Yo shoes. She sewed for us, too.

She was the first one all the grandkids ran to with news of any kind. If something special happened or something bad happened, she was the first we wanted to tell. Because she cared.

She’d defend her loved ones in a heartbeat. She’d fight for you.

I could go on and on …

But bottom line, my grandmother, Leola, extended a gift of love … lid wide open … one that was continually replenished, continually full, continually new … and I reached out and took it.

***


Have you ever wondered why you love God? Why you should?

I can only tell you why I love Him.

He loved me first.
He spends time with me.
I belong to Him, and He claims me. I’m His.
He tells me stories.
He comforts me.
I always have an open invitation.
I’ll always be His baby.
He knows me.
He provides for me.
He sacrificed for me.
He’s the first one I run to when important things happen.
He cares.
He pieced me together.
He’ll forgive me for anything.

But the dearest reason I love Him is because … He’ll defend me in a heartbeat. He’ll fight for me.

He wrote in the sand for me.

Gold.

Bottom line, He extended a gift of love, wrapped in deity gold … lid wide open … one that is continually replenished, continually full, continually new … and I reached out and took it.







Father, I want your qualities. Let me be a person who loves like you and worth loving in return. Amen.


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15 thoughts on “Why Do I Love You?

  1. I envy your relationship with your grandma. Even though my mom's mom lived with us for awhile, we were not close. She was quite old when I was in elementary school, and most of the time she spoke in German. We seemed to enjoy irritating each other on purpose and not in a fun-loving way.

    The relationship and love with your grandma would describe my connection to my aunts. I've tried to be that kind of aunt to my eight nieces and nephews, but the miles often get in the way; however, when we are together, it's like time has not passed. That's love. Now I foster this with my 21 greats!

    On another note, Christ's love for us and why I love him. Wow. I just do, love him, that is. Can't remember a time when I did not trust Him. Now loving others, relatives, friends, or colleagues–I try to think how God loves them. I picture and imagine their prayers–they may be praying for patience with me while I'm praying the same for myself regarding them! Maturity and step-parenting have taught me to pray more for my attitude and to have a heart of grace and mercy.

    This post, made me again–think and ponder the important stuff. Thanks, Shelli!

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  2. You gave me goose bumps, Melodie. It's like that gum or candy … what draws us to that person … the love … and strive for it. I wasn't as close to my other grandmother … she had bad health and couldn't really spend as much time with us kids. I was only 10 when she died. But I wish I had a do-over to meet her where she was. In her chair. To love her more fully.

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  3. Shelli, I can picture you being like your grandmother when your time comes. What a wonderful example of God's love. I always enjoyed how much my grandmother's face lit up when we entered her front door. She knew how to make us feel welcome, and she'd try to feed us until we were all bursting.
    Blessings & hugs ~ Wendy ❀

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  4. Leola reminds me so much of my mother's mom–the first person I remember who loved me unconditionally–that feeling of being adored.

    Such a beautiful post, Shelli. Full of heart!

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  5. A warmhearted grandmother can help us identify with Christ's love because she probably reflects His unconditional love better than just about anything we may ever encounter here on earth.

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