As I sat next to my cousin last week, who I have had the privilege to grow up with (we are only six months apart), we cheered, clasping each other and toasting to our team. He toasted Miller Lite, and I, hot chocolate. It was a glorious feeling, the Packers scoring touchdown after touchdown, the jovial crowd around us in high spirits, and surrounded by my family. Only a slight chill in my fingertips, I didn't even want for a warmer jacket - the smiling faces and happy cheers were keeping my heart and spirits quite toasty.
Later that evening, after many more hugs, tackles and laughs, we headed home in the car; us cousins. As my cousin so close in age, who I remember taking baths and sleeping in the same small bed together as children, nodded off next to me in the dark car, I felt overwhelmed with how much I loved him. I woke from a jostling from the car, looked to my left, and saw his dark head resting on his shoulder, and suddenly, I wished to kiss him right on the head. I wanted to nudge him awake and announce how dear he was to me. But I let him sleep on. I did not interrupt his dreams with a strange kiss from a cousin he sees only a few times a year.
I say this only because I was surprised at my love, and I looked back out the window at the dark roads of rural Wisconsin passing me by, and I asked God that I could love all as I loved him. Love those I do not want to love, that aren't so easy to love; that annoy; anger; hurt; provoke; tease; that I am jealous of or just do not care about. Loving my cousin is easy. He is kind, friendly and accepts you as you are. Others are much harder to love. Yet they need it just as much, and more.
People will search for love, that is certain. The question is: who will love them?
0 comments:
Post a Comment