We were driving along, and the country song “I Loved Her First” from Heartland came on the radio. As the lyrics continued, I heard my son’s voice coming from the backseat.
“What is this guy’s problem?” he said. “You loved her first. Well, too bad.”
“Oh,” I said. “I can see why you think that. But it’s actually a man singing about his baby girl growing up.”
I launched into one of my much-too-long mom explanations about how babies get bigger all the time and then one day they get married. I explained that the song is happy and sad and touching and sweet.
My mind raced back to my oldest sister’s wedding day, when she danced with my father to “When Irish Eyes Are Smiling,” and we all stood there and sobbed. We were happy for her and delighted to gain a brother-in-law. But it was a big transition for her younger siblings, and the tears flowed.
That day in the car, I focused on the little boy in the backseat who was probably only half-listening.
“Her father loved her first,” I said. “You know, because he was there when she was born, and he held her and loved her when she was just a tiny baby.”
I started telling him that’s how my husband and I love him, too – and then it hit me that, since we adopted him when he was a toddler, I can’t say we loved him first. We love him with an extraordinary love and will love him forever, but someone else loved him first – someone we cherish and pray for and will likely never meet.
All these thoughts swirled through my head. By the time I stopped talking, tears were running down my cheeks, and I wasn’t even trying to wipe them away. I parked the car, and our little boy jumped out and ran off without another word.
“I loved her first.” As an adoptive mother, I can’t say that about me and my children. But the truth is that no parent can really claim that. The one who loved us first is God, the one who gave us life. He believed that the world would be better with each of us here. He saw a purpose, a value and a calling for every one of us that no one else could fill. His everlasting love transcends time and space, touches each of us personally, and is greater than any challenge or crisis we might have to confront.
God is love. He loved us first – and loves us forever. He knows us best, seeing deep within us to all we are and all we can be. He sees us and loves us fully. He holds us – and the past, present and future – in his hands.
During times of uncertainty, it’s difficult to know what to turn to for guidance and direction and clarity. But we know there is certainty in God’s love for us, in the belief that we are part of something larger than ourselves, and in the knowledge that we are never, ever alone. Like the father who’s watching his daughter get married with pride in his voice and maybe a lump in his throat, God walks with us and loves us every step of the way.
“God loves us more than a father, mother, friend or anyone else could,” St. John Chrysostom said, “and even more than we are able to love ourselves.”
It’s a love we get a taste of ourselves through the love we experience as members of our earthly families.
A few days after that drive to the “I Loved Her First” soundtrack, I was driving again with my son when he started asking me questions about our car. I was fumbling my way through some answers and not doing a very good job, when I heard him sniffling in the backseat.
“Stop it,” he said. “I’m getting all choked up.”
Then he burst into gales of laughter.
I may not have loved him first, but wow, I love him so much. And he gets the last laugh every time.
