The word caught me by surprise and enthralled my heart. I guess it’s something every little girl wants to feel, “beloved by her father.” I remember a tender moment while visiting my grandmother’s home. For some reason, I saw my father standing with hands in pant pockets, and head tilted back studying the 8 X 10 groupings of Granny’s nine infant grandchildren. I heard him ask my mother, “Are those our babies?” I realized he was trying to identify the faces of his own babies among the display. As a young adult, I suddenly realized I had once been his baby. I do have pictures of him peering proudly into the bassinet at little, swaddled “me.” Unfortunately, he wasn’t able to continue communicating that adoration throughout the rest of my life—but tender expressions are absolutely no problem for God!
