My heart leaped.
“Daddy, do you know…”
I heard the words, and smiled.
Then, my heart grieved. Until I remembered…Father.
*
It was a nondescript January day here in the Pacific Northwest. No snow, but the bitter cold was alive and well. You know, the kind that bites through the skin no matter how many layers you have on.
The idea of running a quick errand to Costco on a Saturday wasn’t appealing. Yet, I reasoned that most people would rather stay home than venture into below 0 with wind chill weather.
Yeah, what was I thinking?
When you live here long enough, you get used to the cold. You adjust. You adapt. You do what you need to do to get things done, no matter how cold it is, right?
Making my way through a busier-than-I-expected Costco was relatively uneventful. Given how fast that went, I decided to head to one more store. I wasn’t really thinking about anything in particular. I wasn’t talking with God. I wasn’t listening to music. I wasn’t praying.
I was just doing my thing.
*
After parking a fair way out from the store, I got out of the car and started walking toward it. Passing a family of three who was getting out of their car, I quickly observed a man, woman and young girl. As she exited the back seat, the young girl asked, “Daddy, do you know…?”
I missed the rest of the question, but I thought, “How beautiful!”
Why was that beautiful? Because in that moment, it showed that the young girl had a relationship with her dad. She could ask him a question, and he was there to answer. Such a simple innocuous moment made me smile.
And I grieved because I never got that with my father.
I’ve written many stories on this blog about my relationship with him. The most important moment in out relationship was when he breathed his last breath on this earth (see, “No More Prayers To Pray” – April 2021).
To ask him a question like, “Do you know…”, wasn’t part of the equation. We did have one day where I asked him a lot of questions…about himself. But that was as an adult, and nothing beyond that.
It’s funny, this Christian walk on earth. You walk a path of forgiveness – which can take decades like in my case – and you see victory after victory after victory through the journey, and one moment can bring it all back.
But God.
*
Just as quickly as I smiled at this young girl’s question, I grieved. And just as quickly as I grieved, I moved to peace.
Abba.
The Hebrew word for God (Father) is Abba.
I’ve been using that word more and more in my conversations with God over the past few years. It’s as if He, demand isn’t the right word…He longs to hear me call Him that. Abba. He is my Abba.
When 2024 began, I was attending a worship conference in California. A prophetic word was spoken over me, and it had to do with God as my Abba, my Father. The context was this: the joy of a little girl was stolen from me, and the Lord wants to restore it in me.
The joy of being able to run into your parents arms, them playing with you at your level, the way they held you when you were scared, them teaching you about anything, and the laughter…oh the laughter you share with your parents.
*
Since that day, I’ve been calling out to Abba. I’ve been entering into that Secret Place (Psalm 91) where I can just be with Him. I’ve entered in when I’ve done something wrong, and He held me in His arms. He reassured me of His love. He talked me through what I did or said.
And, He told me how to handle it next time.
I’ve sung songs to Him. I’ve danced with Him. I’ve walked with Him. And He put His hand in mine. He has many other names, which I use those too as the situation calls for, but…Abba. Oh my Abba is a name I’m growing to love. I love talking to my Abba.
And yes, I have and will continue to say…
Abba, Do you know…?
***
Sunny Cadwallader 
You must be logged in to post a comment.