To Be Called Father

This morning began like many of the rest. I have a strange habit of awakening and making a beeline to my lazy-boy rocker. For me this is the part of the day where I claim the day for the Lord as well as clear the cobwebs I created by a good night’s sleep.
It has also become a habit to notice my children when they wake up. Of course, their first question is, “where’s Momma?” I guess all children need to know where their mother is as a means of assuring a sense of security. It’s fun to look at how messed up their hair seems and I find it amusing to watch how they deal with waking up.
As I’ve said, this morning was no different until Olivia broke with her usual morning ritual. She walked over to me and crawled up into my lap. She snuggled close to me, told me she loved me, then just sat there and made my day.
I miss rocking my babies. However, every now and then, my babies still let me rock them and enjoy a quiet unspoken sense of oneness with them. I’m sure they think that they are the ones being pampered. But they are so big! These moments are ones that I long for and small slices of love and affirmation that keep me going sometimes.
It’s funny what these sessions of “rocking chair time” do to me.
Like any other parent, both of my children have disappointed me at times. They have done things they shouldn’t, or left things undone that should have been a first priority. Like any other parent, both of my children have hurt my feelings at times. There have been times when they consciously chose to tell me that they loved someone or something else more than me. I’ve even heard, “I don’t love you anymore, daddy!”
However, when we are close in one another’s arms, just being still and knowing that we are family, I can’t seem to recall the disappointments and heartaches. It seems that during these moments, everything in our relationship is made new.
There was once a young person who said, “God is my Father,” to which an older person responded, “God is your King!” Both are right. He is our Father and He is our King. But let me ask you this, do you think Chelsea Clinton calls Bill “dad” or “Mr. President?” When you answer that one, you’ll not only know what to call our God, but that you can crawl up in His lap for some quiet time of your own. This lap time will include forgiveness and acceptance by the Creator who longs to be called “Father.”
~ Joey Davis; from the archives at

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