She sat on the linen couch, her back against the oversized pillow a mug of hot tea cupped in her hands. Other women filled the seats around her, the sun lighting the room. They had gathered to be together, to seek God this Monday morning. Everything was set up to create warmth, a safe place to be.
The music started while the women sat listening to the lyrics, letting them wash over their busy mornings, the rushed breakfast dishes left in sinks, the second trip to school after a backpack was discovered left behind. The melody calming them, the words sneaking into their souls.
"Father we confess,
we have loved you less..."
She did not catch the next line, she was stuck on this one line.
"...we have loved you less..."
The words stung at first. She thought it must be guilt, guilt over not loving God enough. But it wasn't that, no there was something else. Something that pricked but did not break. She held the tea, warming her hands, the words turning over in her head even as the song went on.
She looked around the room at the women sitting there. She knew them only through the hostess. She wondered what they were scribbling down in their journals. What words were stuck in their minds.
This was her friend's home. She had been here countless times, though usually sitting casually aat the kitchen counter or on the smaller couch in the family room. Kids playing games out the back door. Today though the room filled with seekers her friend had picked up along the way.
"...we have loved you less..."
Those words would not go away.
A new song played. The Lord's Prayer filling the space.
"...we have loved you less..."
She sat and pondered and wondered. Did she love him less? Did she even know how to love?
There was that sting again as she realized the truth there.
Did she know how to love?
Did she even know what love is?
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