Daddy

As a father has compassion on his children, so the Lord has compassion on those who fear Him.
-Psalm 103:13


Daddy,

Funny, but when I write to You, I always start with Father. It’s authoritative, solid, head of the household type reverence. Yet You are close to me, hovering over me in a familiar gaze. You are with me. I run to Your arms.

But still there is Father. Father, if Your will be done… Father, You created the heavens and earth… Father, You are holy and I have never been more aware of my stains.

Somehow, Daddy sounds comforting, more childlike. And isn’t that what You wish our relationship to be? The ability to scoop me up in Your embrace after I’ve skinned my knees in disobedience, wiping away the tears that fall because You promise that there is rejoicing in the morning?

If I really dig under the layers of this endearment, I’d want to burrow deeply into the comfort of Your wings and tell You all that scares me. Then You can whisper in my ear, “It is alright, my love. I am here.” And You will stand in my corner when the world presses in and I’ll smile at those who sneer, because I know my Daddy’s got me. He fights for me, because I’m His little girl.

Thank You for protecting me. I love You.
Your Little Girl


Prayer:
Daddy. That name brings comfort, brings warmth. And You do hold me close. You wrap me in Your love and wipe away my tears, comforting the inner child of my heart. Thank You for pulling me close. Amen.