you are of your father

Sometimes when I hold my newest sweet thing, she stares at me for minutes on end without changing her expression or turning away. She will stare into my eyes, not knowing that there are far more interesting things to be looking at than a poppy who adores her. And yet she continues to stare. Despite having already stared at me earlier in the day, and despite having stared at me many times over previous days, she still stares at me with her full focus, all her attention trying to figure me out.

My wife keeps telling me that my children aren't really mine, that they are on loan to me from God. I think it's some mother philosophy she probably picked up from Beth Moore or Ann Graham Lotz or some other MOPs favorite. And while I recognize what Ps24:1 says about all belonging to the Lord, including the world and all who dwell in it, and while Ps139 is clear that He crafted and formed each individual within the womb, I still find it hard to accept that my sweet things weren't crafted specifically for me to have.

Despite this disagreement over her ownership, she stares at me with her full focus, all her attention trying to figure me out. It's not that difficult a question to answer. Her all might not be for me, but my all is for her.