Love Really is Sacrifice.

So, night before last, I had finally made it to bed. I was settling in next to my sleeping baby sister, when my thirteen-year-old sister came and asked, very pitifully, if I could help with dishes.

It was 11:12pm. I was tired. I said no.

Well. God asked, “Do you need love or sleep more?”


He kind of has this way of getting straight to the point, ya know?

And then He reminded me, “Love is sacrifice.”

So I got up and I washed dishes with Cheryl. (I even made up an alter-ego person named Rosemary Juliet who was my twin from Narnia who came to wash dishes in the middle of the night and lived near Centaurs.)

We got them washed in record time (probably like 10 minutes, which, if you are in a big family, you know how fast that really is.) and I went back to my warm bed.

When she came to bed, a little later, she said thank you.

And… she said, “It made me feel loved.”

Oh. So… love really is sacrifice?



4 thoughts on “Love Really is Sacrifice.

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