She walks to me and covers my mouth, a clear sign I’m not supposed to speak to her. “Mom. I luh you.” She waits a second, then she puts down her hand. “Thank you.” I say. “Hug?” She says, then hugs me tight, she lingers for a moment. “Kiss it.” She says, and she grabs my face with both hands and brings it to hers, kissing me gently. I want to tell her I love her too, but she doesn’t want to hear that. She’s not looking for my love or affirmation, she is simply wanting to show her love, for me.

It took me a while to recognize how to receive her love. Every time my daughter told me she loved me, I said, “I love you too.” Which was often met with a decisive, “No, mom!” or a, “Stop it!.” Because the only thing she wanted to hear was, “Thank you.”

Thanks to her, I have learned that sometimes you just need to receive the love. It is not about loving back, but letting someone love you, completely.

And I realize how often I need that affirmation. When I tell my husband or my girls that I love them, I like to hear it back. I wait, craving for their words that express love back. I want to know that they feel the same way, that it’s mutual, that we’re okay.

Yet my daughter looks for no affirmation, she only looks for expressing what she feels. She gives this precious gift of love expecting nothing in return, wanting nothing in return.

Her love is so pure. She loves so well.

And I remember the day, when she was just a toddler, with clumsy steps and not enough hair on her head. A man walked in to church and she ran a wobbly run to him – as she did every time she saw him – and wrapped her little chubby arms around his neck. He was struggling, trying to piece together his broken life, and sometimes he smelled and wore dirty and torn clothes, his hair a greasy mess, a face that had not been shaved for days. Most of us kept our distance, except my daughter. And that day he scooped her up, and I was thinking about how she would need a bath when we got home when I noticed he was crying. I saw the tears as he closed his eyes tight and said, “She makes me feel so loved.”

And I wondered, in that moment, if the arms of my daughter were the arms of Jesus, reminding this man that he was indeed loved. Oh so loved!

And perhaps I know how he felt because she has done that for me too, she has been a vessel of God’s love poured out to me.

My little girl, showing me each day how to love. How God loves.

When she was born with Down syndrome, I foolishly thought of her as broken, yet I quickly recognized that I was the broken one. So broken.

I thought I knew how to love, but here she is, showing me each day that love is a gift given without expecting anything in return. And it is not about whether other people love you, but about how you love.

And she covers me with this unconditional love, reminding me that God loves me the same way.

So I let her love me.

This daughter of mine, she loves with no restrains.

“I love you Nichole.” I say.

“Tenk you mom!” She says.

And I smile. I love her fiercely, and what a joy to know that she rejoices in my love too.