If I keep my house immaculately clean, and am envied by all for my interior decorating, but do not show love in my family — I am just another housewife.
If I\’m always producing lovely things – sewing, art; if I always look attractive, and speak intelligently, but am not loving to my family — I am nothing.
If I\’m busy in community affairs, teach Sunday School, and drive in the carpool, but fail to give adequate love to my family — I gain nothing.
Love changes diapers, cleans up messes, and ties shoes – over and over again.
Love is kind, though tired and frazzled.
Love doesn\’t envy another woman — one whose children are \”spaced\” better, or in school so she has time to pursue her own interests.
Love doesn\’t try to impress others with my abilities or knowledge as as a mother.
Love doesn\’t scream at the kids.
Love doesn\’t feel cheated because I didn\’t get to do what I wanted to do today — sew, read, soak in a hot tub.
Love doesn\’t lose my temper easily.
Love doesn\’t assume that my children are being naughty just because their noise level is irritating.
Love doesn\’t rejoice when other people\’s children misbehave and make mine look good.
Love is genuinely happy when others are honored by their children.