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The Day My Daddy Died
Mirror, mirror
My screensaver changes daily, I know not how or why. Today’s image is of Chenonceau, a castle in the Loire Valley in France. I remember visiting it on a school trip and loving it. I was about fifteen when I went, one of a bunch of London schoolgirls imagining different lives.
The river faithfully mirrors the castle above in slightly wiggly soft focus.
I hope to cast a good reflection of the one above. To express something of His kindness, His peace, His patient, deep love.
But to do that I need to resist the offers of anxiety, anger or escapism. I can instead accept His invitation to stillness. To rest in His kindness. His peace. His patient, deep love. So He can be seen in me.
Abba’s child. Really
For you have not received a spirit of slavery leading to fear again, but you have received a spirit of adoption as sons by which we cry out, “Abba! Father!” Romans 8:15
On my morning walk recently I saw a father and child walking together up ahead. The man looked like a tower beside the toddler, walking beside him steadily in a pair of trainers/sneakers with massive thick soles, like Bugs Bunny feet or clown shoes, sticking out in front. The child was walking independently, not holding hands but gripping something in each tiny fist. Cute, I thought, as they turned off the path and I passed on my way.
Further on I saw another father and child. A little girl skipping along beside her dad, singing and chattering, wandering off to look at things and then call out her discoveries. She carried nothing, but her father wore a small pink backpack with sequins on it, clearly hers. It looked funny at the top of his back, the straps stretched out to reach over his shoulders. A mutant pink sequinned spider catching a ride.
As I smiled at the sight I heard God say; that’s you and me.
Me, walking beside my Father, keeping Him in sight, in hearing, in reach. Letting Him carry my stuff. Assuming he’ll be there when I turn in his direction, that he’s interested in what I have to say, not too busy or distracted to be with me. What I have not even dared to imagine.
About four decades into this Christian life, I’m beginning to believe it. And it’s glorious. I am Abba’s child.
Due South 