You really do love me, don't you, Father? I love knowing that. I love it when You cuddle me, when you let me be a silly, little child in Your arms, prattling and smiling foolishly. You love me so much. And the thing is, I'm such a little nut. I run hither and thither, usually at least TRYING to do Your will, and making a nuisance of myself. I feel like a toddler rushing about underfoot in the kitchen as You, my dear Father, are making dinner. "Can I help? Can I taste? Why are You putting that in? Ugh - I don't like that stuff! Oh! Can you play with me? Can I carry the plates? Daddy, what are You doing now?" And You, my Father, You answer my questions and catch me when I trip and laugh at my antics, but You also keep me from touching the stove or playing with the knives that I think are so very pretty.
You said that no one would enter the Kingdom of Heaven unless he was like a little child. I guess I'm supremely qualified! I'm a foolish, little child: I want my own way (even though the knives are sharp), I want to have and feel like I have Your full attention at all times (except when I'm doing something I don't want You to see), I want to feel important, and I need (and know I need) Your help in order to get anything done unless it's a catastrophe (those I'm quite good at alone!). And, still, You love me.
Thank You, Father.
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