An alphabet series by and for new Catholics, it’s the…
Brit over at Underground Confession and I are planning on posting a new letter of the alphabet every week. I’m a little slow this week, but I picked A is for…
When I was younger, I went to church with my friends and later with the girls who lived next door to my grandmother. I heard about God all the time. I heard about Jesus. I had no idea how the two went together or what Jesus had to do with God. All I knew was that God was somewhere, up there, looking down on us and watching and who knows what else, and from what I heard at vacation bible school, He loved me.
God just always seemed distant. I had heard of the concept of the Father, the Son, and the Holy Spirit before, but what did that mean?
After Mother Mary was certain she had my undivided attention a few years ago, I asked her a question. “If you are Mother,” I had asked, “then do we – do I – have a father?”
She winked, smiled, and sat me down at my Father’s feet to find out.
I do have a Father. And He loves me very, very much, more than I can imagine. I am His precious little girl, daughter of the King, and I mean the world to Him.
That isn’t to say that our relationship has been all butterflies and roses. Even now, whenever I do something wrong or I think I have, I run from Him. I hide. I cry. I can’t bear to face him, knowing I’ve let him down. He’s Dad, isn’t he? If I do something wrong, won’t I get yelled at — or worse?
But He isn’t like that. He is the definition of love. He loves me in an amazing, incredible, eternal way.
And I love my Daddy too.