Unconditional love

I've had a pretty horrible cold of late.  The kind which infiltrates your sinuses, disables your taste buds and makes you want to crawl back under the covers.  A few days ago I woke up and summoned enough energy to sit up in bed and watch with apprehension as the wiggling mass of energy which is my son was plonked on our bed by Mr F.  "Hello darling," I croaked faintly. "Mummy's feeling a little delicate today, so can you be loving and very, very quiet for her?"  My son grinned up at me, lifted his pudgy little hand and slapped me.  Right on the nose.  It hurt.  A lot.  And yes, I cried.  Mr F, seeking to reassure me, brightly remarked, "He's only 13 months Bekah.  He doesn't know any better.  And it's probably his way of showing love." I glared at him and stalked off to find solace in a cup of tea.

But it got me thinking about the nature of love.  As a parent our role to to show unconditional love to our children.  Literally, love without conditions.  My love for my son is not conditional on whether or not he tidies away his toys, learns to walk, gives me kisses or sleeps through the night.  If he throws his food on the floor, I love him.  If he digs up my newly planted petunias, I love him.  And if he slaps me - unintentional or not - I love him.  Now, don't get me wrong: there's a bigger discussion to be had about discipline and consequences.  But aside from all that, my love for him is without conditions.  There should be nothing he can do or say that will make me stop loving him.  I might not like him at times, but I should always love him.

I know that God loves me unconditionally.  And yet sometimes, when I'm having a particularly grumpy day, I can't help thinking that God's love comes to me with conditions attached.  'Oh that Bekah.  She's lost her temper with other drivers seven times today.  Seven!  Shocking.  It makes me love her a little less.'  Or, 'Why on earth does Bekah insist on comparing herself with other mothers?  She knows that it only plays on her insecurities and makes her irritable.  Grief, if I've told her once I've told her a thousand times.  Honestly, I really don't love her when she's like that.'  Or, 'Bekah hasn't read her bible today.  Or yesterday.  She can't really love me all that much. Well fine.  I don't love her that much today.'

Ludicrous isn't it?  And yet...

God loves me unconditionally.  Without conditions.  Yes he'd like me to stop proverbially slapping him and start showing him more love.  But his love for me remains the same whether I do that or not.  And that is awe-inspiringly amazing.  And pretty darned humbling.