The day before Valentine’s Day – a day dedicated to LOVE… and I struggle with wondering how well I am loving my family, how well I am teaching my children to love.

After school, the kids bicker. Tone, misunderstandings, purposeful button pushing. One child is anxious to get to soccer practice on time, yet one key piece of his required uniform didn’t make it into the dryer. 100% cotton t-shirts do not dry in 10 minutes. Failed again.  Every single soccer practice and game, the boy and I hunt for some obscure piece of equipment or clothing that has mysteriously not made it into the soccer pile. Sometimes I think laundry is holding me back from reaching my full potential as a parent. On my parenting report card “Laundry: clean clothes (specifically sports uniforms) are an area Erin can improve on.”

The boy is finally ready, and we arrive 5 minutes into warm-up. Boy jumps out of the van, the girl and I yell “WE LOVE YOU!!!” out the window as loud as we can as he runs off to his field. He used to turn red in embarrassment, but now he knows this is part of his routine.

I entertain the girl – a treat at the coffeehouse, a game of hangman, we hang out at the playground, literally. I take photos of the girl hanging upside down, and enjoy her silliness. Then the practice finally ends.

5:15, we pile into the van for the drive home in rush hour. I choose the route home that has fewer traffic lights, more trees. Driving a couple 100 metres through a stretch of forest is calming for a few seconds. But I am not so calm as the boy and girl pick on one another. They push each other’s buttons. We arrive home, girl retreats to the family room to play a video game, boy starts on homework, I starts dinner. Boy hears sister on video game and makes his move. I hear screeching, bickering, a daily battle in the Sibling War. They are tired, they are hungry. They don’t have much left in them to offer as love or patience or kindness.  

I march down the stairs, announcing that “Mom is on the way, be warned!”  I calmly (which is unusual, as my default is to scream at them) turn off the game and the television, send them both to their rooms with this directive: write your sibling a love note.

My husband returns home at this point, the children explain their assignment, he helps (!) with dinner (Yeah!), and we enjoy a good meal. Food, sustenance, patience returns. My kids are kind again.  The girl has us laughing at the table.

We clean-up from the meal and I look forward to my girlfriends arriving. It is Home Group night. 6-10 women gather every other week in my home and we talk, laugh, sip tea, read and discuss a book, God, faith and our struggles. February is beating many of us down. Lack of joy, lack of peace, and lack of patience with families… we are not alone in our feelings of failure and frustration.  We stop – sing Happy Birthday to a friend and eat cake. We rejoice in the good things. We pray for one another. One friend dashes off to nurse her baby at home, saying, “I don’t know girlfriends. You may think you’re messing up, but I think you’re pretty great!”

Yes. This is why we gather. We confess our faults, our failures, our sins. We listen. We cry and console. And then we turn to the one who brought us together. We lift up our concerns to the One who is concerned for us. We ask to see ourselves, our family, and our challenges from His point of view. We part encouraged, connected, and more peaceful than when we arrived.

Friends help me carry teacups and plates to the kitchen. There is small chat at the door as shoes are slipped on, and one by one, friends slip out the door and drive home.  I tidy up. Find my loved ones sleeping. Kiss the girl, the boy, the husband. Go back to turn out lights and notice a paper on the floor by the girl’s bed: a love note from her brother.

I read it and smile.

“Dear L,

We fight sometimes but I still love you. You are creative, funny and pretty. I enjoy watching you play basketball and I love your artwork. I hope you do achieve your dream.

From J.

p.s.: 3 John 1:11, 1 John 3:1, Philippians 4:4”

My Father in Heaven LOVES me. He LOVES my family. This note touches my heart and fills it with joy. I pray regularly that my children would love one another. And my prayer is answered. They do.