“I love to watch you play.”

I recently received this phrase as parenting advice about how to show appreciation for your kid’s athletic efforts.

Whether the kid stinks or soars, the point is to express your parental enjoyment at watching her swim, jump, run, dribble, throw or approximate those activities.

This advice would also work as “I love to hear you play.” The sounds of a child playing the viola or playing with a friend can be delightful.

This is super useful for someone (me) who isn’t currently allowed to tell her kid that she loves her. I take comfort in knowing I’m not the only person who has ever been in this situation: Anne Lamott wrote that her son disallowed those three little words (“I love you”) for a time, too.

I am left to express my love indirectly—through affirmations and acts of love.

Little children, let us love, not in
word or speech, but in truth and
action (1 John 3:18).

Paradoxically, my kid’s favorite Scripture passage right now is 1 Corinthians 13:4-7, a genuine Pauline love-a-thon: “Love is patient; love is kind; love is not envious or boastful or arrogant or rude,” it begins.

She probably hasn’t read all the way to verse 11: “When I was a child, I spoke like a child, I thought like a child, I reasoned like a child; when I became an adult, I put an end to childish ways.”

She thinks that limiting my vocabulary will ease the pain of past losses, and perhaps it will in the short-run. Eventually, though, I hope she’ll allow me to tell her “I love you” without grumbling in response.

This predicament isn’t unique to parenthood. We may feel deep affection for a coworker or friend but would feel awkward telling them, “I love you.” Instead we show our love by listening, affirming, helping, playing, praying or working with them on a project.

Listening is an Act of Love is a collection of StoryCorps interviews with “real” Americans (see www.storycorps.net). I love the stories in the book, but right now I especially love the title of the book. It suggests a powerful way to communicate care without saying those potentially pesky words.
We humans can feel deep affection for animals, too, but the words “I love you” are lost on them. The chickens want kitchen scraps, the cat (always) wants to be fed, and the dog wants to either cuddle or play fetch.

When we bear witness to someone’s—or something’s—life, we show love. We listen, we watch and we convey our deep care for the person or creature.
My Grandma Helene Dick would often tell us grandchildren, “I love you, but God loves you more.” Her words put human love into a perspective I needed as a child and still need now, as an adult.

Jesus calls us even to love our enemies: listening and watching them, too, bearing witness to their lives even when we might wish them ill. This kind of love draws on a deeper well than one’s own individual resources.
We love because God first loved us.

Those who say, “I love God,” and
hate their brothers or sisters, are
liars; for those who do not love a
brother or sister whom they have
seen, cannot love God whom they
have not seen. The commandment
we have from him is this: those who love God
must love their brothers and sisters also
(1 John 4:19-21).

This month, as we celebrate—or ignore—Valentine’s Day and enter into the season of awaiting spring and resurrection, we recollect Jesus’ command to love one another, as he has loved us.

In her novel Imperfect Birds, Anne Lamott writes, “God loves you crazily, like I love you, … like a slightly overweight auntie, who sees only your marvelousness and need.”

Sara Dick is pastor at Shalom Mennonite Church in Newton, Kan. This ran as a column in the February issue of The Mennonite.