I don't know what it is that makes me love you so
I only know I never want to let you go
'Cause you've started something, oh, can't you see
That ever since we met, you've had a hold on me?
It happens to be true
I only want to be with you....
None of you can ever be proud enough of being the child of such a Father who has not his equal in this world - so great, so good, so faultless. Try, all of you, to follow in his footsteps and don't be discouraged, for to be really in everything like him none of you, I am sure, will ever be. Try, therefore, to be like him in some points, and you will have acquired a great deal.
4 years: My Daddy can do anything! 7 years: My Dad knows a lot…a whole lot. 8 years: My father does not know quite everything. 12 years: Oh well, naturally Father does not know that either. 14 years: Oh, Father? He is hopelessly old-fashioned. 21 years: Oh, that man-he is out of date! 25 years: He knows a little bit about it, but not much. 30 years: I must find out what Dad thinks about it. 35 years: Before we decide, we will get Dad's idea first. 50 years: What would Dad have thought about that? 60 years: My Dad knew literally everything! 65 years: I wish I could talk it over with Dad once more.
Oh, the comfort, the inexpressible comfort of feeling safe with a person, having neither to weigh thoughts nor measure words, but pouring them all out, just as they are, chaff and grain together, certain that a faithful hand will take and sift them, keep what is worth keeping, and with a breath of kindness blow the rest away.