Sabbath Devotional :: Taking Baby Steps Beyond Self-Love

This picture — home to me — is the view from the kitchen window of my childhood home.

In his book “The Four Loves“, C.S. Lewis identifies the first love as “love of home, of the place we grew up in or the places, perhaps many, which have been our homes.” Lewis explains that “as the family offers us the first step beyond self-love, so this [love of home] offers us the first step beyond family selfishness.”

I am intrigued by his description of home — and family — being the place where we take our first steps beyond self-love, beyond selfishness. We learn to love others at home and then we take that love out into our neighborhoods, communities, nation, and world.

My daughter was born when my oldest, a boy, was about 21 months old. Watching him learn to love her was one of my favorite parenting experiences. When we brought her home from the hospital, I took her in and sat down on the couch. Our son came over to look at her and immediately noticed she was wearing little socks. He looked surprised and took her socks off and ran to put the socks under the chair near the door where he and I kept our shoes.

In his sweet way, he was saying, “You belong here with us.”

Our son has always respected personal space, so he didn’t show her the aggressive affection that toddlers sometimes give their little baby siblings. But he showed affection in other ways. I remember our baby girl lying on a blanket on the floor while her brother surrounded her head with his toy cars.

He was willing to share with her what he had.

When our baby girl was old enough to sit up but not old enough to crawl, we were playing in their bedroom. I had to run in the other room — I was gone for approximately seventeen seconds — so I said to my son, “Will you watch your sister for a minute?” I did not say this because I expected him to watch her. I said it because I thought it was a funny thing to ask a two-year-old. When I came back in the room, I found him sitting behind her with his arms surrounding her, but not touching her, ready to protect her should she fall over. When he saw me walk in, he sighed in relief and went back to his own toys.

He felt obligated to protect her and he did.

I have thought about how these three ways our toddler demonstrated that he loved his sister could apply to our communities. A few years ago, we moved from New York to rural Utah. The men we had hired to move our belongings could not get their big truck up the steep dirt road leading to our new home. They told us that they would rent a U-Haul, unload the truck into the smaller truck, and take it up the dirt road. That was a terrible idea for two reasons: We couldn’t afford the extra expense, and we were in a very remote and very rural town (population 250) where there were no U-Hauls. Anywhere. We had our new bishop’s phone number, so I suggested my husband call to see if there was anyone available to help us. I still laugh at that phone call. We had just arrived in a ranching community in the Western United States and my husband said, “Is there anyone in the ward with a truck?” Spoiler alert: There were trucks. Within twenty minutes, a small crowd of men and boys arrived — strangers to us — with their trucks and their muscles and their generous hearts. We were very quickly moved into our new house. The professional movers from Brooklyn were quite taken aback by the response of the community. I am sure you have experienced similar things in communities where you have lived. I have.

A community is willing to share what they have.

Protection has looked different from what one might think. It is not a defense in the traditional interpretation of the word. Despite the overall goodness and generosity of our neighbors, our family has experienced some rejection and judgment. The attacks on our family came from inside our community, but the protection has also come from inside. Mother Teresa said, “If you judge people, you have no time to love them.” My children have had youth leaders who were so full of love, they had no room or time to judge. I was provided tremendous protection by some neighbors who have offered me friendship. It started slowly — just a casual chat at the bus stop as we waited for our kindergarteners — but it has developed into a buffer and insulation for me against the unkindness that seemed like it would consume me. I have learned that love and friendship can protect us by offering us a safe space to be.

A community is obligated to protect one another, and the best protection is love.

The very first thing my son did when we brought the baby home was to take off her socks. He did this because we did this — we always remove our shoes when we come inside. But baby girl’s feet got cold. She needed her socks. Even though his heart could not have been purer, he was not meeting her needs. As I have thought about what it means to belong and how I can help others find belonging, I have concluded that we sometimes make mistakes. As we invite people to do things the way we do them, we might not be meeting their needs. We can offer belonging by learning others’ wants and needs. Or, even better, we can learn their strengths and talents and invite them to contribute. President Henry B. Eyring said, “The children of God have more in common than they have differences. And even the differences can be seen as an opportunity. God will help us see a difference in someone else not as a source of irritation but as a contribution.”

A community provides belonging by acceptance and by acknowledging and appreciating differences.

We can offer this step beyond self-love first in our families, then in our communities, and deliberately offer selfless love at a national and global level.

“A [woman] filled with the love of God, is not content with blessing [her] family alone, but ranges through the whole world, anxious to bless the whole human race.” – Joseph Smith