Dear God,
I don’t understand. It doesn’t seem fair.
Some of us grow up with wonderful fathers—
Amazing fathers who leave too soon,
Though not willingly.
Some of us have ones
Who turns the word “father” into a curse.
Some have no father at all.

A father
Is so crucial to life—
Forming.
Shaping.
Challenging.
Directing.

We need our fathers.
Why can we not—
Each of us—
Have a wonderful father?

Then, I remember.

We all—
Every single one of us—
Does have a good, good Father,
The fountain from whom flow
All the blessings
Of Father-love.
A Father who is merciful anew
Each morning.

You are the definition
From whom all fathers on earth
Derive their meaning,
Whether they portray You faithfully,
Or turn the title You share
Into blasphemy.

Our fathers on earth may change,
May fail us,
Through the grievousness
Of sins committed,
Through the commonness
Of passing years.
But, Father, You never change.

And so I call you
Not only God,
Not only Lord,
But Papa…
The dear, dear One
Who will never find me
Too annoying to answer,
Too old to carry,
Or too stubborn to love.

Thank You for choosing to be
My Papa.