Last winter, Louie and I went on a 24-hour indoor waterpark adventure together. He talked non-stop as we packed, drove an hour, and checked into the hotel. When we walked into the waterpark, he hugged me and we were off!

We bounced around the bubbling huge hot tubs and lounged around the winding, lazy river. And then we went to the center of the park that featured slides and squirt guns and an enormous water-filled bucket that dumped rhythmically to the delight of squealing children.

I squealed too…because the water in the center of the park was ICE-cold. Quickly, I turned to Louie and said, “Buddy, it’s too cold for Mommy. I’ll sit right here and watch you and when you’re ready we can do the lazy river and hot tub again.” Louie’s gaze and head dropped slightly as he replied, “Okay, Mom.”

Covered in towels, I followed Louie’s every move with my smiling eyes as he played in the park center. Then, with some discomfort, I asked myself, “Alicia, why aren’t you out there with him?” For the next fifteen minutes, I wrestled with the ugly truth that I was not speaking my son’s love language of play because the water was too cold…for comfort.

I am (really) not a fan of cold. And, after all, I played with him part of the time…

Sitting there, I realized that convenience and reason were measuring out my love in rather stingy portions. Logic was limiting the visible applications of my love.

So I asked God’s forgiveness, laid the towels aside, breathed deeply, and walked into the Artic toward my son. As Louie’s eyes lit up with joy, I had a sense that Jesus’ eyes were responding in kind.

The prayer I offered that day is one that this logical, comfort-loving soul will need to keep near me all my days: “Jesus, strengthen me to offer irrational displays of love.”