"And now these three remain: faith, hope and love. But the greatest of these is love." 1Corinthians 13:13
"Love is patient, kind, not rude, not self-seeking, not easily angered...Love rejoices in the truth. Love always protects, always trusts, always hopes, always perseveres. Love never fails." On June 14, 2008, flanked by I Corinthians 13, we took our wedding vows and pledged to love one another until death do us part.
I've looked back on that young-and-in-love couple many times since, and thought how appropriate it was that we stood surrounded by these words as we entered our marriage and established the beginning of our family. It was the happiest day of our life--I've never felt more loved.
We expected to face life's trials together, but we had no clue that in less than 3 years time, the greatest joy of our life together would become our greatest trial and test of love.
The greek word for 'love' in 1 Corinthians 13 is agape. An agape kind of love is a love that loves without changing. It is self-giving without demanding or expecting repayment. It loves even when rejected. Agape love gives just because it wants to, it's an absorbing kind of love. In it's greatest form, it is a love of self-denial for the sake of another.
Sometimes you have to seek, work or maybe pray for this kind of love for your spouse and for others. When we became parents, agape became a little more instinctual. Ben and I would do anything for our baby -- anything.
Most of you know our story by this point. We expected typical trials of life, but were blind sighted by the atypical instead. In tears one day, following Blake's diagnosis, I asked mom over the phone, "What am I suppose to do?"... "You love her, you just keep loving her," she said. "We are going to keep praying, but in the meantime, you just love her."
"The greatest of these is love"-- period. We have faith in our God, faith in His ability to heal, faith in the possibility of a cure. We hope for a big-time treatment, a major break-through in the field of Rett, possibly a life-altering cure. We hope to see her body regain abilities, hope to have her hug us, hope to hear her say, "I love you", hope to see her defy the odds in general. But if none of these hopes or dreams are fulfilled, we can still have love, and that's not a bad consolation prize. As a matter of fact, it's the only thing that really means anything at all. As long as she has life, she will be loved and know love.
(Tomorrow, I'll give more backgroud on the logo...)