For love, that is enough, an abundance of sentiment that showers the little boy that loves with his whole heart. His offering comes in the way he smiles, rests his hand on his brother's leg, plays in the doll house with sister and allows her to briefly hold him tightly in her lap; he chases the grandfather that worries as the grandmother smiles at the game, another dance of love. I know he loves me because of the way his eyes light up when I have been gone, even for an hour, and the way he reaches for his daddy when he offers a bike ride, pure love.

I wish I had known that love could be like this. It would have saved me a lot of heartache over the years, particularly in the days of dating and wondering if said person really adored me. The kind of love I have found in a little boy, not quite three, has changed the rules that I thought I knew. It is he who demonstrates love and reciprocates love with a family that finds him spectacular. He doesn't say names except mine, doesn't ask for help, doesn't beg to play, but he has solicited the type of love we all should emulate.

Not a word said and this son of mine with special needs has shown me the type of love many people never encounter in a lifetime. A love that is not always patient or kind, but the type of love that provokes patience and kindness. The love of my little boy is as of a mysterious thing I have ever encountered, both the giving and the receiving. Though he does not yet offer words as proof, I offer the family that has conceded defeat of their whole hearts. If not for him, the light of agape love would likely have remained dormant and for that knowledge, I will always be thankful to my young son.