Love covers a multitude of sins

I have to attend council meetings (virtually) and report on them for our local newspaper. It's a pretty cool thing to be part of - sometimes, yes, extremely dull but also really revealing. I read all the council members' bios and platforms 2 years ago when they were up for reelection, but seeing them in action makes me want to adjust my vote next time. I can see who is passionate about what, who refers to townspeople as fellow citizens and who sees us as voters (a small but significant difference, I think). And I can see how they act under pressure, when something unexpected pops up, when they're put on the spot.

I'm glad for virtual meetings. I attend on my computer which has no mic or camera, and I never have to worry about being heard or seen. Other reporters for other publications attend too, and sometimes ask questions or clarify a murky point. Often, visitors present complaints/reports/awards virtually too, and I always like getting a glimpse of people in their own setting.

This week, a guest was presenting a report when suddenly someone else's mic was turned on. There was the sound of a squalling child in a busy home, obviously clamoring for a distracted parent's attention. And then the exasperated parent's voice could be heard, telling them not to hit the computer again, and then the gasp of realization that their mic had been turned on. 

The presenter smiled kindly and murmured "these things sometimes happen with zoom, don't they," and then, unruffled, continued the presentation. 

The absolute grace and kindness of his comment shone in the dull meeting like a Christmas star. 

I could just feel the interrupter cringing as they realized what had happened. The flush of embarrassment and panic, the horror as they replayed their snappish voice in their head. And then the relief as the meeting flowed on, the brief interruption barely a ripple.

Love covers a multitude of sins. 

[To be very clear, I'm not talking about covering up abuse (which is a crime, and makes you party to the crime if you cover it up). Report that ruthlessly, and so protect the vulnerable.] 

Love covers failures and flaws and gaps and insufficiencies.

I have a friend who has been through some really tough times, and she has this breathtakingly gracious response when someone is disregulated.

'Hey,' she asks, 'how can I support you right now?'

And just reading it like that, it might sound formulaic and academic, but hearing it? Hearing it when you're losing your temper or coming unraveled over something? 

It's sweet balm. 

There isn't any judgment. No 'get it together, you horrible person!' and no 'how can you act that way?' (Which is already ringing in the background when I'm overwhelmed anyway.)

Just mercy.

Just care.

I remember one night we had a bunch of friends over, and one friend, noticing the state of my fan, blurted out, "whoa, you have a lot of cobwebs!" Cringe. I definitely should have dusted long before then. But another friend asked me about one of the dishes at the table, and the conversation moved on.

Kindness. Love. 

It's so beautiful in action. 

Love covers. 

Like soothing balm on sore skin, like warm blankets on a cold night, like a plush-lined hat over wind-nipped ears.

Love covers a multitude of sins.

May we see it, and cherish it, and extend it - all year long, but especially at Christmas.

xo.