Catholic Transcript Magazine of the Roman Catholic Archdiocese of Hartford Connecticut

Wednesday, May 23, 2018



Dear child of mine,

Hi. It’s me – God. I was hoping to hear from you today but I guess you’ve been busy, so I decided to write to you.

So, how are you? I don’t actually need to ask since I already know how you’re doing, but sometimes people like to talk about themselves, and besides, I enjoy listening. I love the sound of your voice, and I never grow tired of your company.

So how are you these days? Pretty busy? Especially with the holidays just winding down. Yeah, I know all about the holidays. Actually, they were my idea, although I don’t care for the way they’re celebrated nowadays. Too much glitter, not enough real joy. I do like those new video pods, though, and the PlayStation 3 is incredible. You might be surprised at how much I know about iPods and operating systems and March Madness. And the Red Sox. Always, the Red Sox.

But that’s not why I’m writing. What I’m wondering is, have I told you today how much I love you? Really, really love you? I love the shape of your nose and the way your hair grows sideways at the back of your neck. I love how you laugh at a child’s silly joke, and walk slowly when you’re helping a grandparent. I saw you the other day at the mall when you heard the panicked voice of that mother whose child had vanished. You stopped what you were to doing to help search until the child was found, un-harmed. I was very proud of you.

Does that surprise you? It shouldn’t. Yes, I’m God, but I’m also your father, and fathers love to watch their children, no matter how many children they have. I could have a trillion children but there would be only one you. And I love you. I want you to know that. Really know it.

The other reason I’m writing is to say how much I miss you when you’re not around. My favorite days are when you talk to me throughout the day, asking for advice and entrusting your worries to me and just hanging out together. I love that. Can we do it again soon?

It means a lot when I look out on a Sunday morning and see you in your usual pew. My Son is there with you in a special way in the Eucharist and there’s no better way to strengthen your life than by receiving him. I wish people understood how powerful the Eucharist is, how unbelievably powerful.

There’s another thing I want you to know. You know that funny room in the church – the place where people go, with pounding hearts and sweaty palms, in order to admit their sins to the priest? I’m in there, too. Did you know that? It’s true, and I wait for you every Saturday afternoon because I love you. I’m like a parent watching anxiously at the window for the return of the child who has stayed out too late. Oh no, I’m not there to holler at you. I’m aching to hold you in my arms and kiss your face and remind you that all is forgiven.

Nothing you’ve done is so bad that I won’t forgive it in the blink of an eye. Just come to me. Please. I miss you.

So, that’s about all.

Oh, and did I mention how much I love you?

Love,

Your Heavenly Father,

The Dad