Before my second child was born, I wondered about the amount of love I had to give this new little one. Would I need to somehow reserve a portion of love I’d give to Robb, thereby enabling me to have some to give his new little brother or sister? If I only had so much love to give and I had to allot some to another, then didn’t that mean Robb would get less? See, I assumed my love was like an apple pie. And as I cut and served portions of the pie, didn’t more pieces mean reshuffling the sizing for all the recipients? Because I only had so much pie, right?
Wrong.
God’s love is not–nor has it ever been–confined in any way. Not by the edges of a pie tin. Not in the amount he channels through me to my children. And certainly not in the portion he unconditionally gives to us all. God’s love comes in an unlimited supply, like staring into the infinity of a star-filled night sky.
That realization became clear when Jay was born: Instead of finding that I had to pull love from one child to give to another, I instantly knew the core of love within me had simply grown infinitely bigger. I soon discovered there was no limit to it, and actually, the opposite was true–for that love flowed out in waves like the ocean, one after the other, day after day folding into months and years and decades. God is its source, and it has no limits, no confines, no edges, no ending.
God’s love is not an apple pie. And whenever I next slice into one (or more likely, our favorite “Dirt” dessert) to share with my family, I will think about God’s love. There will only be so many pieces…so many portions…and a bigger slice for one will mean a smaller portion for another. But I’ll remember that God’s love is a sky pie, filled and bubbling over with an infinite number of stars that stretch beyond comprehension. And I will smile, knowingly.