I am not sure who wrote the following adaptation or paraphrase, if you will, but she must've been a mama. I'm just sayin'. I've changed it a little here and there to make it more "me." For those of you who've read this blog for any length of time, you may recognize those tweeks.
I CORINTHIANS FOR GREAT MOMS
I can read bedtime stories till the cow jumps over the moon and sing "Five Fat Sausages" until I want to throw the frying pan-- but if I don't have love, I'm as annoying as a ringing phone.
I can chase a n*ked toddler through the house while cooking dinner and listening to voice mail, I can fix the best cookies and Kool-Aid in the neighborhood, and I can tell a sick child's temperature with one touch of my finger, but if I don't have love, I am nothing.
Love is patient while watching and praying by the front window when it's 30 minutes past curfew.
Love is kind when my teen says, "I hate you!"
It does not envy the neighbors' (clean) swimming pool or their brand-new mini van, but trusts the Lord to provide every need.
Love does not brag when other parents share their disappointments and insecurities, and love rejoices when other families succeed.
It doesn't boast, even when I've multi-tasked all day long and my husband can't do more than one thing at a time.
Love is not rude when my spouse innocently asks, "What have you done today?"
It does not immediately seek after glory when we see talent in our children, but encourages them to get training and make wise choices.
It is not easily angered, even when my eight-year-old acts like the axis of the universe runs through the center of his head.
It does not delight in evil (is not self-righteous) when I remind my 17-year-old that he's going 83 in a 55-mph zone, but rejoices in the truth.
Love does not give up hope.
It always protects our children's self-esteem and spirit, even while dealing out discipline.
It always trusts God to protect our children when we cannot.
It always perseveres, through blue nail polish, burps and other bodily functions, rolled eyes and crossed arms, messy rooms and sleep overs.
Love never fails! But where there are memories of thousands of diaper changes and painful labor(s), they will fade away.
Where there is talking back, it will (eventually) cease.
Where there is a teenager who thinks she knows everything, there will one day be an adult who knows you did your best.
For we know we fail our children, and we pray they don't end up in therapy, but when we get to heaven, our imperfect parenting will disappear.
When we were children, we needed a parent to love and protect us. Now that we're parents ourselves, we have a heavenly Father who adores, shelters us and holds us when we need to cry.
And now these three remain: faith, hope and love.
But the greatest of these is love.