That love implies care is most evident in a mother’s love for her child. No assurance of her love would strike us as sincere if we saw her lacking in care for the infant, if she neglected to feed it, to bathe it, to give it physical comfort; and we are impressed by her love if we see her caring for the child. It is not different even with the love for animals or flowers. If a woman told us that she loved flowers, and we saw that she forgot to water them, we would not believe in her “love” for flowers. Love is the active concern for the life and the growth of that which we love. Where this active concern is lacking, there is no love.
Excerpt From: Fromm, Erich. “The Art of Loving.” iBooks.
This material may be protected by copyright.
Check out this book on the iBooks Store: https://itunes.apple.com/WebObjects/MZStore.woa/wa/viewBook?id=600177798
As a child, I regularly visited with and spent Saturday’s at my Grandparents house.
One of my fondest memories from that time period is the enjoyment of taking a bath in my Nana's tub near the end of an exhausting day of running and ripping with both my cousins and the local neighborhood kids.
First, there was the whistling sound of the water filling the tub like a grand curtain call.
The fuller that it became the more powerfully it summoned you to its celebration of the day’s closing hour.
Slowly, ever so carefully you stuck your big toe into the steam and warmth as the causing message being sent to your brain registered that this is the place where you belong.
Wow! It is hot, but not hot enough to prevent you from continuing to slip in deeper and deeper.
The biggest moment came when you found yourself finally seated in the liquid fusion while taking in the familiar smell of Ivory soap.
I can still hear those last few drops from the faucet echoing as though applauding my willingness to surrender.
At last I am rewarded by the rich surround sound of ethereal grace and contentment.
Yes, I remember well the feeling of my body, mind, and spirit all at once blissfully and yet silently saying ahhh.
Please don’t let this splendid moment ever end!!!
But wait, following this stillness there is more to come: Cookies, ice cream, and a tall refreshing glass of milk before the night-light goes out.
These wonderful sensory experiences remain bundled together in a moment in time making it so effortless for you to recount the bedside call to prayer along with the loving kiss goodnight that Nana saved up just for you.
And to think she’s now become one hundred and two.
Every time I slipped beneath the soapy water, I felt safely watched over by the Almighty from way up on high as I lie there beneath the warm and soothing water of my dear ’Nana’s tub’.
Word Up! - A book of poems,
One of the worst habits that I picked up during my childhood, was the tendency to take things that did not belong to me. A Psychologist's might very well refer to this as poor impulse control.
Chapter 3 A turning point