Yesterday I had the pleasure of welcoming others to worship alongside a proud Papa, only ten months old. All I had to do was mention his adorable little girl and the smile deepened, the chest swelled, and the telling began. I asked is she's walking yet, and he launched into a tale of love. Describing a recent afternoon when he was reclining on the family room couch, his daughter decided she wanted his full attention. Crying out to him, her arms lifted in appeal.
"Come on," he coaxed, and she scooted over to the edge of the sofa, pulled herself up, and creeped along in unsteady determination to reach her goal, cheered on by one whose eyes were filled with delight. Once close enough, she was rewarded by being swooped up, coddled and kissed for simply being his precious child.
"That's so wonderful," I smile, my heart mixing memories with the present, "every child deserves to be loved like that."
"How could anyone not?" he asks with youthful innocence. My smile remains, but my eyes turn a little sad. Indeed. If only all the Mamas and the Papas loved their children as this father and I.
This song is for my children. The melody carries the lightness of a tune sung to a little one, but a true parent knows that our children never really grow old in our eyes. The lilting words speak of the love our Father holds in His heart for us, his dearly treasured ones. They rise and fall like our own attempts to love Him back as He shows us how. They provide a pattern of how it truly ought to be, how I so wish I were all of the time, and what I inch along towards with unsteady but determined steps.