“I love you” has been an extremely concrete phrase in my small lifetime.

At first, it’s experienced amidst the wonder at hearing it from my parents when I was little. Eventually, I got used to hearing it. Until it bore new meaning to me. Upon the threat of being spanked, I could say it over and over and beg for mercy. Then, with even more years added to my world, I would say it to my best friends, and occasionally my sister. It was definitely the staple for hanging up the phone with just about any family member I had, and it was tagged onto goodbyes and goodnights for years to come.

Along the way and all the while, I learned to say “I love you” to God, and feel really good about it. Of course I loved him! My tiny little brain knew that God gave up his son…

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