My mother said that when I was born, my eyes were immediately searching for her. Our soul’s eyes search for the one who loves us and finds several strong bonds of love throughout a lifetime. I always knew that I was my mother’s most precious possession. In fact that was often a problem. She thought of me as “hers”, and I rebelled against that possessiveness many times. However, I never doubted her unconditional love for me. When she died, I knew that no one would love me in the same way again. Oh, I know the love of my Heavenly Father who loves me with an everlasting love. And I know that my earthly father loves me overwhelmingly. My husband cherishes and values me, and my sons and I have a mutual adoration for each other. However, I believe in the special power of a mother’s love that has the ability to “keep no record of wrongs”.
Since the birth of my first son, I have understood my mother’s possessiveness of me. Anthony became my entire world the moment he was born. When he was a child, I dreamed of his becoming an influential man of whatever endeavor he chose. He always liked and saw the best in most people. He always laughed and loved easily. So when at 18 and in confusion of his purpose in life, he chose meth, I was devastated. However, amongst all of my feelings of hurt, disappointment, anger, and embarrassment, my most overwhelming emotion was love. All I could think was that I loved him so much and had to do all I could to help promote his journey back to life without addiction.
In this journey, I have learned that love doesn’t say, “Here’s 400 dollars for your rent.” Love says, “No, I can’t give you cash, but I can give you a place to live while you battle through your situation.”
Love doesn’t say, “Yes, you can stay here and bring your friends with you no matter what your choices are.” It says, “These are the conditions if you stay here. You stay clean from substance abuse. You work to help around here. You treat your family with respect.”
My Anthony, who had become a stranger to me, didn’t always want to respond to this love. He left our home and our state and eventually chose the streets where he could satisfy his addiction. Let me tell you. Love hurt. And, it hurt bad. He was still my baby, but he was an addicted stranger that I couldn’t trust. But, my love never wavered. Sometimes, I wanted it to waver. I wanted to protect myself from the pain by cutting its source out of my heart, but that was entirely impossible because a mother’s love is unfailing. It is the closest love that I can imagine to the love of God.
A week ago, Anthony sent me a letter from L.A county jail. In it he said, “Thanks Mom for loving me and never giving up on me.” Then, he wrote the thirteenth chapter of 1 Corinthians on a separate sheet of paper. I love this “love” chapter, but what struck me the strongest this time was “love keeps no record of wrongs”.
I believe that a mother “keeps no record of wrongs”.