Dear Sam

Dear Sam, this morning, after I fed you and changed your diaper and you peed on me--twice--, I held you in my arms on the rocking chair and you put your head on my shoulder and fell asleep and drooled all down my neck while I sang Vito's Ordination Song to you and prayed for you.

...God of the wind and rain, the ocean and mountains, the mud and clay and sky, the grass and the trees; Creator of heaven and earth, God of the stars and the sun and the moon, God of night and day; you know this child, teach him to know you; you love this child, teach him to love you; be a father to him, you're my father, too...

Dear Sam, having you makes me appreciate who God is, as my father, so much more. To him, I am like a child. Everything I need comes from him... when you fuss and complain and scream because you want your bottle and you want it now, I'm not holding it back from you, it's warming up because I don't want to give it to you cold and I'll put it in your mouth in just a minute... God doesn't hold back from me, he gives me the things I need and the things that are good. Like you. God gives me you. And I am as helpless as you are. But I fuss and complain and whine because I want what I want and I want it now and I worry that I'll never get it and that seems like such a big deal to me.




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