Unconditional love

Twice a week, the baby comes to stay from 8-1. Twice a week for three months, I dreaded waking up in the morning because I would have to deal with what is known as a colicky baby. He fussed and screamed nearly all his waking hours, and I would chew the inside of my lip, my nerves raw, as I gave him drops and wished God would make the hours go by faster.
"I like him when he's cheerful," I told mom, "Which would be about - ten minutes a day."
"The thing is, you need to learn to love him even when he's not." Mom said.
Um, what? He's not even my child, how do I learn to love him while he's screaming in my ear til I have a splitting headache?
It's called unconditional love. It looks beyond the red face and the writhing little body, to see the distress and pain of a helpless little boy. Kind of like the love of God, and my parents. I expect unconditional love from them, I expect them to see beyond the faults when I know full well I am not being lovely.
This love did not come naturally to me, which shows that love improves with practise. Little by little my fondness grew until I had much more patience and compassion on the poor baby. And you know what? Soon after I learned to love him, the baby outgrew his fussiness. He is now a cheerful, joyful little being who I hope will wake from his nap so I can play with him. Lesson learned!