Father

As I reflect on the first Sunday of Advent, I’m reminded of the way the Father constantly molds my heart. In the first reading from Isaiah, he says “You, LORD, are our Father.” While the lector was reading this line during Mass on Sunday, the baby behind me was repeating “daddy, daddy, daddy” to her father. How real!!!!!! When babies cry or become disruptive during mass, I usually disregard it, but at that moment the little girl made real to me what the Isaiah was saying. The little girl was calling me back to the beginning, to re-learn how to say Father. In her simplicity, she was teaching me the only way to experience to the kenosis of the Father’s love in which I desire to permeate myself into, I must remember how to say Daddy. And the way to my Daddy’s heart is not complicated, but one by which I must surrender my control and remember how to just sit and be held by Him. 

 Beloved brothers and sisters, as we rest in our Momma’s arms, may we rediscover how to cry out to our Daddy.

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