Love is a Verb

As the parent of a new born and two toddlers under the age of four, it feels as though it is all hands on deck 24-7. Even when I am sleeping, I am on call. For me, lack of sleep equals edginess. Some people are amazing at keeping their cool when they lack rest. Not me. I struggle with patience even when I have a solid 7-8 hours of rest, let alone 4-5.

Yesterday Eden and I began building a play set for the backyard, and at one point she decided to grab a 3' 2x4 and swing it above her sister's head. Needless to say, I freaked a bit when I saw that, especially since, at that moment, I couldn't physically redirect her because I was holding one of the 8' walls of the play set. She wasn't heeding my original instructions in that moment and someone could have been seriously hurt. My edginess intensifies if my oldest is being overly obstinate (which she tends to be quite often). I was surprised, because in the midst of reaching for the "panic button", I calmly told her to put the blunt object down, far away from her sister's beautiful face.
I am excited about building this play set with my daughter, but am reminded that it's going to take a lot more patience today as we continue together. There's part of me that wants to go it alone. It's easier. I don't have to wait five minutes for her to reach into her pouch and pull out a screw or display patience as the conversation plays out:

Daddy: "Ok, big assistant, grab the metal bracket over there (nodding with my head toward a variety of hardware and tools strewn on the ground nearby because I'm holding the heavy wall).

Eden: Where?

Daddy: There.

Eden: Here (holding up the pencil).

Daddy: Eden, that's a pencil. You know that. The metal bracket is to the left... No, the other way... Go up... Now over...

Eden: As she hands it to me, "Daddy, what is metal?"

Patience is a process. I keep telling myself that I can do this. I feel like Nicholas Cage's character in The Family Man, "You ran with the bulls in Pamplona. You jumped out of an airplane over the Mojave desert. You can do this!"

Paul the Apostle reminds me of what love is...it is kind, gentle, selfless, and more than that, it is patient. If asked, most parents would not hesitate to say that they dearly love their kids, but I wonder if many of the same parents would admit to lacking patience. So, if I love my children so much why do I struggle with patience? Isn't patience supposed to be a fruit of my love? And then it dawned on me...Paul's not referring to the ushy-gushy, feel-good tingly love. He's referring to agape (Greek translation) love...the love of action, the verb version of love.

My children have taught me what it means to live out my love for others on a daily basis. Though I stumble, though I fall, I will never stop striving to patiently walk with my kids.