This is a picture of me at 10 weeks old. It is Easter Sunday 1943. I found it in a little worn and water stained baby book in which my mother had written down little details of my beginnings. On this page there was a choice to write down whom the baby resembles. If you look closely you will see that I resembled my father.
Then there is a page that records my learning to walk and talk.
At 8 ½ months I was saying “da da” and then “daddy.” Then I started to say “Papa.” At 10 ½ months I walked quite well. On Feb 20th, 1944, I blew out a match for Daddy who had lit a cigarette. On Feb 25th I tipped a pail of molasses on the floor.
This story is important for me now as 70 years later, I want to look like my Father in heaven.
I want to rest in His arms, look into His eyes, and call Him by names that draw me into greater intimacy with Him. When I talk to Him I want to remind myself that he is mine and I am his. He is my Papa.
I want to watch him and do what he does. I want to listen to him and do what he says.
I know it will be messy. I will tip a pail of molasses again.
But that’s OK because I have a Father that loves me. He loves to hear me call Him by name. He is thrilled that I want to resemble Him.
In fact, He is so glad about it that He sent His Holy Spirit to live in me to make it happen.
