Love That Never Sleeps

So Superman is just a super, nearly-three bundle of energy. He also can go to the bathroom on demand. Doesn't matter if he's just gone fourteen times in the last hour. He can always, always, always squeeze something out.

So I've been annoyed in the last few months when he gets out of bed at least once right after going down for quiet time or bedtime. "Mommy?" his little voice murmurs down the hall from the doorway. "I gotta go potty." And I roll my eyes and go into the bathroom, get him all situated, and try not to sigh in exasperation (usually because I just want to nap or get things done, and I can't until he's asleep).

This happened the other day, just as it's happened hundreds of times before. Except Superman, who is incredibly sensitive and insightful, looked me in the face. When I caught his gaze, he said, "Mommy, I love you." My heart melted. I said, "I love you, too, Superman." And then he said, "Even when I'm sleeping, I love you."

In all of his little boy innocence, Superman spoke a sanctified truth. Love, real love, never sleeps. My boy might relax into slumber with his arms stretched and mouth open, his mind and body deep in nocturnal rest, but he understands that love extends beyond wakeful conscientiousness. I can't love my own children with eternal care, but Christ can. He loves all of us with a love that never sleeps. And thanks be for His undying charity that extends even to sinful moms and restless little boys.