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The Better Father

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I do really well with multi-tasking. So well, in fact, that I take on way too much, but even then, I manage until something goes.

Something always goes wrong.

Tonight, some small things went wrong. Nothing major, but just major enough, on top of an impossible workload, to stress me out.

Now, I don’t know about you, but I have an explosive temper and a short fuse..

So, when I’m stressed, I try to detach myself from my emotions and my surroundings so that I can push through without blowing up.

That’s what I was doing tonight—pushing through as a robot, not a man—when my daughter ran to me.

She’d been extraordinarily clingy already, though not in a whiny way, more in an overly joyful and living way. So as I entered the room she was in solely to accomplish a task, I tried to ignore the elated cry of “Daddy!” She ran to me, beaming, with her arms open.

I sighed, slightly frustrated, “Emma, you’ve hugged me eight times in the past two hours.” I said this, coldl but hugged her all the same. I looked down at her tiny form and saw that she was prepared for a kiss. I smiled, leaned down, and obliged my loving girl, patting her on the back as she skipped off.

Thank God that He is a better father than I am. He never sighs at our approach, never feels burdened by our love or, more surprisingly, our neediness. In fact, we cannot hug Him enough! We cannot express, even half as much as we should, the love and affection due to our Heavenly Father.

He is the better father.

Now, if you’ll excuse me, I’m going to find my daughter. I think she might need another hug.

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