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Snuggled in his father's arms, he is secure, unafraid, because there is a father.
Looking into the small eyes gazing up from within his arms, feeling the tight clutching of tiny hands, the father awakens to something he may never have known before: He is a father.
As the child fosters a man, as he grants a father his fatherhood and a mother her motherhood, so our trust in the One Above makes Him into our G-d.

I do recall the first time I ever said, "I love you G*d."
And since then, I have been able to also accept and deeply appreciate (especially in time of need) that "G*d loves me."
BlesSings and gratitude,
Joy
Northridge, US
gulf shores, alabama