The Boy Who Called Me Mama
Teddy is 18-months old, and his vocabulary is growing daily. Most of the things he says aren’t distinguishable by anyone but Amy and me. Nevertheless, he’s turning into decent little communicator. I especially enjoy the needless communication - like Teddy’s play-by-play of his ordinary daily activities. Rarely does Teddy stand up from sitting or laying on the ground without proclaiming loudly, “upf!” Going up stairs, getting into his high chair, or being picked up by a taller person all receive the same explanation of, “UPF!” To keep it consistent, Teddy makes sure to announce, “down!” with the same enthusiasm when doing the opposite sort of activity. Perhaps the best of all narratives is when Teddy lets you know he bumped his head on something. He could be walking by a piece of furniture and bump his head lightly when seconds later he proclaims, “BONK!”
How much more does the God the Father love to hear us call him by name? How much more does he love to comfort us? (Psalm 91)
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