There's an old story about a farmers' wife who, on their 50th wedding anniversary, asks the farmer if he loves her. He thinks about it a minute then says: I told you I loved you when I married you. If I change my mind I'll let you know!
I taught a class of older people this morning. One of the things we discussed was that, for the most part, our parents did not tell us they loved us, nor did they tell each other. A few years ago an older friend called me from Illinois. She was ill and her son, whom she adored, was caring for her. She called me because she wanted my advice as to how to tell her son (who was in his 60s) that she loved him. Despite the fact that she knew it and he knew it, she'd never spoken those words to him.
When I was in my accountability group this week we discussed this very subject. We went from one of us who was told every day of her life growing up that she was loved to another (me) who was never told - and everything in between.
So, how many of us in that group have lived full loving lives as wives, mothers and leaders in work, church and community - and are still at it?
That would be all of us. But it sure would have been nice if some of our parents had actaully said those three little words once in a while.
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