“Love is patient, love is kind. It does not envy, it does not boast, it is not proud. It does not dishonor others, it is not self-seeking, it is not easily angered, it keeps no record of wrongs. Love does not delight in evil but rejoices with the truth. It always protects, always trusts, always hopes, always perseveres. Love never fails. But where there are prophecies, they will cease; where there are tongues, they will be stilled; where there is knowledge, it will pass away.” – 1 Corinthians 13:4-8
I’m sure you’re probably familiar with this verse. It’s often read at weddings–mine and Evan’s was no exception. While it’s a great model for the love in a 
marriage, it’s about so much more than romantic love. As a young child, I remember my mom giving me the advice to replace the words “Love is” with “I am” and say that every day, always striving to make it ring true. I’ve had varying degrees of success with that over the years.
I think that becoming a parent teaches you to love in a whole new way, and lately I’ve been contemplating how our situation as special needs parents has made me more loving, and convicted by the ways it hasn’t. So, if I compare myself to the description of love in these verses, how do I measure up?
For the first couple things that love is, I think I’m doing ok. I’d argue that my role as a mom has made me more patient. I used to get in such a hurry to get anywhere, or get things done. My road rage would flare up at every red light and waiting in line at the grocery store could make my blood boil. Things are different these days. 
I think I have more patience because I know things are just going to take longer than they used to. Getting 2 kids out the door in the mornings takes long enough. With the extra steps required upon arrival, like unloading and assembling a wheelchair and loading said kids into it, I’ve come to terms with the fact that we just take longer to do most things. And I’m fine with that. I don’t know why I was ever in such a hurry anyway (aside from the fact that I’m ALWAYS running late).
While I’ve always tried to be kind, perhaps I do a better job now than I used to for the simple fact that I’ve gained a bit more empathy and perspective. Several years ago, I remember reading a handwritten Post-It stuck on my coworker’s computer monitor that said something to the effect of “If you treat everyone you meet like they’re fighting a battle, a huge majority of the time, you’d be right.” Those words really struck me, but until I struggled with my own challenges, I probably didn’t put them into practice as much as I should have. I still need constant reminders to put myself in other’s shoes and simply be kind.
As the verse goes on, I’m reminded of ways I struggle. Love does not envy. I wish I could say that is true of me as a parent, but if I’m being honest, it’s not. Not even close. As much as I try not to, I do envy. I’m jealous…of healthy, active kids…of freedom and flexibility to travel. It’s embarrassing to admit it, but it’s true. Not because I don’t want what we have, but because I don’t want my kids, or myself, to miss out. I know some of my feelings of jealousy are over silly, trivial things. But one of the things I struggle with most is being envious of parents who seemingly aren’t faced with the same tough choices we are.
Other parts of this verse that I struggle with are not being easily angered, or keeping records of wrongs. I tend to turn into a mama bear about certain things, especially when it comes to Gage. Sometimes when faced with challenges, I think we psych ourselves up to “fight for our kid” and take on the world. In an attempt to be an advocate, I’ve been guilty of becoming hardened, cynical and defensive at times. I’ll fall back on my mom’s advice and keep repeating “I am not easily angered. I keep no record of wrongs.” Maybe one day it will be true. Or truer? Maybe?
I think when the struggles come into play, I’ve got to remember that those feelings aren’t love, and identify what they are. If it’s not love, then where is my jealousy and anger rooted? I think the answer is fear. Fear of the unknown, fear of making the wrong decision, fear of not doing enough, and fear of my kid dealing with his own struggles. With pain, hurt, injustice. I want to make it all better for him, and I can’t. And that breaks my heart.
Love always protects, always trusts, always hopes, always perseveres. Do I? God knows I’d do anything in my power to protect my boys. But when things aren’t in my power, do I trust the same God to be in control? To take care of things according to His will? Not always. Do I always hope? I’d like to, but fear and doubt often creep in. Do I always persevere? I haven’t stopped moving forward yet, and haven’t felt like giving up, but have definitely wanted a break from it all at times.
Scripture tells us that perfect love casts out fear. Obviously, I’m not perfect and I’m still dealing with my fears and other shortcomings. But luckily, love never fails, even when I do.