My grandma has recently taken it into her head to buy my sister and I each a subscription to one of those sappy magazines with names like Guide Posts and Angels. I was paging through the angels one this morning and came to one that stuck out among all of the soppy ones as real. One guy, called to war in Afghanistan had prepared a chest for his wife to open each day, with 365 slips of paper saying I love you in sundry fonts and handwritings. Every day she would open it to yet another reminder of her husband's love, even though they were oceans apart. As much as that appeals to me as a budding romantic, it also shows me that's how His love is. It's there every morning whether I'm aware of it or not. On my birthday I love you. One Christmas, I love you. On Monday, Tuesday, Wednesday, Thursday, Friday, Saturday, Sunday, I love you, I love you, I love you. His love is written across my life, our lives, in permanent black Sharpie. His love is big enough to span two thousand years and counting, to hold the outcasts, the insecure, the hurting and those who just wake up in a bad mood. And maybe, our heavenly Daddy intended Jesus to be those 365 slips of paper with I love you tattooed across every single day of our lives.