To Know That You're Loved

As I was leaving for work this morning, my dad poked his head in the car window and said, “Ain’t it great to know that you’re loved?” I said, “Yes. And I love you, too.” My dad fixes breakfast for me every morning. He has done this for years. Recently, though, he has taken his morning routine of helpfulness one step further. He now walks to the car with me to open my door because he noticed how my hands were always full with said breakfast and coffee and lunch. Once he opens the door, I give him a hug, tell him I love him, get in the car, and make my way to work. I know. I am lucky to receive such a huge morning blessing each day. This morning, after my dad poked his head in the window and said what he said, I spent the entire drive to school thinking about his statement (trying to ignore his bad grammar, which, is really atypical): “Ain’t it great to know that you’re loved?” It is. And I know that I’m loved in so many different ways. Just this week, for instance, I’ve known love by… A friend helping me prepare a staff gift even though she had a ton of work to do herself. Another friend writing to ask how I’m doing even though she is suffering at home with Covid. Yet another friend asking me to her 5-year-old’s birthday party and allowing me to be an active part of her children’s lives. A mom who cooks supper each night and sits with me while I watch TV. A parent who lights up when she sees me in the car rider line. A teacher helping me solve technological issues in her classroom. A thank you note arriving in the mail. And research done on my behalf to find the perfect cup-holder for my cart. Friends: Ain’t it great to know that you’re loved? If you are reading this, you are loved, too. Sometimes, the ways aren’t as obvious as some of the ways I have known love this week. But the ways are almost always there if you will but take the time to recognize them. What are some ways you have been loved this week? Oh…And I didn’t even mention the beauty of God’s creation, the crisp autumn air, the crunch of pinecones under foot, the smell of campfires and pinestraw and falling leaves…