How hard is it to be a daughter, when you’ve never really known a father ? How weird is it to lift your arms up to your heavenly father, when you were never lifted up as a child ?
Can we learn to become daughters, to look up expectantly at the father we adore ? I hope so. I am trying. I am watching the way my daughters look at my husband. The way they trust him, are amused by him, carried by him, the way they ….love him.
you saw me in my darkness, like a child you lifted me
came to me in my prison, with your love, you set me free
You gave your life so willingly….what kind of love is this ?