If I give impressive advice, but have no love, I am only an annoying background noise.
If I bake fancy cookies and cakes, distribute to my neighbors, but have no love, I am only a chef baker.
If I attend religious ceremonies, follow all rites, but have no love, I am only a hypocrite.
If I sacrifice my time and money for the family, but have no love, I am only a house nanny.
Love listens to the child narrating a boring episode on TV without interrupting.
Love is gentle with frayed tempers when directed at you.
It does not compare salaries of co workers, children’s’ grades or success.
It does not post pictures of your achievements on Facebook nor envies other’s posts.
Love takes a deep breath when a favorite dish is broken and sambar spilled on the white table cloth.
It does not remember spousal failures of the previous Christmases, but believes in the best.
Love does not keep tabs on chores done, but gives of oneself generously.
Love places no conditions.
Before I became a mummy, my thoughts and priorities were different.
Romantic notions of motherhood and family have failed, plans for the future too.
I have fallen short of Love’s standards, yet the God’s Love remains.
That love was strong enough when we were weak.
Sacrificial enough when we counted.
Love never fails.
Adapted from 1 Corinthians 13 by Hima