Because Little Warrior is excreting chemo each time she goes to the bathroom, I have to clean her well with a baby wipe. At 3 in the morning, no matter the old trick of holding the wipe in your hand to warm it, it is still pretty cold. So, I ponied up 20 bucks and got her a wipe warmer. Everytime I pull a wipe from it, she smiles. Ahhh. Nice and warm.
That's what love feels like. A warm baby wipe, because Mama doesn't want you to have a cold tushy.
I have received several phone calls this week from the BFF-DRE. She sounded ... I dunno, kind of echo-ey. "Where are you?"
She was out in the middle of a lake, because she's on vacation and that's the only place she could get cell coverage. She wanted to check on how LW was doing, in the hospital.
And that, my friends, is what love sounds like.
What say you? What does love look like/feel like/sound like/taste like to you?
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Brand new, un-asked for pillows from Crash, just because he knows I have been waking up with headaches lately from my old. beaten-up, lumpy pillows.
That's love.
Congregants calling me to make sure I'm doing okay after being sick and telling me it's okay to call them in the middle of the night if I need them.
A friend inviting me over to cook because she knows that will make me feel better about the struggles in my life.
Twelve years ago I lost a child at birth, or more precisely a few minutes after birth. Love looked like the dozen white roses, with a congratulations card on them, my friend sent to me. Because she HEARD me when I told her there was a part of me that needed to celebrate his life instead of mourn his death. Nobody else got it- He wasn't JUST a sad experience. To this day, white roses bring beautiful memories.
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