"Become like a child
and lay your life
with all the searching and ruminating
into the Father's hand."
Still, even this beautiful advice (that St. Teresa Benedicta [Edith Stein] wrote to a friend) can become abstract. "Lay my life into the Father's hand"... what does that actually mean? How exactly am I supposed to do this?
Something struck me today that helped me get past all of that, and remember how very simple it really is.
A child in a father's hand... I remember what it was like to hold a very, very little child in my own hands.
I've held five little children in my hands, and I cherished each one of them. I even made up little songs for each of them, and I remember looking at their little eyes and singing their songs to them.
The youngest of my children was particularly small, helpless, and vulnerable. How did I carry her in my hands? What did I expect her to do for me in order to "earn" my love? How ridiculous! I know that the father who held that tiny, imperiled child couldn't even imagine such a question.
My gosh, I just wanted her to live! I wanted to love her, all the more because her life was so fragile. My child! I am bending over, in the picture above -- bending down to put my face next to hers. She is helpless, and so I do everything I can to draw close to her. My desire is to pour out everything I have so that she will live and grow and become herself.
Of course, I am a selfish man, and I rarely live up to this desire in the daily circumstances of raising my own children. But I try. I know something of what a father's love is meant to be.
I try to give what is good to my children.
"How much more will your Father in heaven give good things to those who ask him!" (Matthew 7:11)
Stop being afraid. Stop trying to comprehend it. Stop trying to justify yourself. You know that a father's strength is in his tenderness, and all his ardor is for your healing.
Something struck me today that helped me get past all of that, and remember how very simple it really is.
A child in a father's hand... I remember what it was like to hold a very, very little child in my own hands.
I've held five little children in my hands, and I cherished each one of them. I even made up little songs for each of them, and I remember looking at their little eyes and singing their songs to them.
The youngest of my children was particularly small, helpless, and vulnerable. How did I carry her in my hands? What did I expect her to do for me in order to "earn" my love? How ridiculous! I know that the father who held that tiny, imperiled child couldn't even imagine such a question.
My gosh, I just wanted her to live! I wanted to love her, all the more because her life was so fragile. My child! I am bending over, in the picture above -- bending down to put my face next to hers. She is helpless, and so I do everything I can to draw close to her. My desire is to pour out everything I have so that she will live and grow and become herself.
Of course, I am a selfish man, and I rarely live up to this desire in the daily circumstances of raising my own children. But I try. I know something of what a father's love is meant to be.
I try to give what is good to my children.
"How much more will your Father in heaven give good things to those who ask him!" (Matthew 7:11)
Stop being afraid. Stop trying to comprehend it. Stop trying to justify yourself. You know that a father's strength is in his tenderness, and all his ardor is for your healing.
"Become like a child and lay your life with all the searching and ruminating into the Father's hand."