My Father is Dear to Me Because…

If I had known that the moment would be so beautiful as to carve a niche in my heart, I would have taken a shot of it or even made a video of it. I feel like I would have missed it more if I didn’t even try to capture it with words. So here I am on Heart Rays….

My Dear Father

This morning felt like a full-circle moment for me.

I sat there watching my first daughter and her father work on one of the homework assignments we intentionally left undone yesterday because we wanted Daddy to handle that by himself and for himself.

The homework was a composition on “My Dear Father” and who better to take it on with her than the very one playing the father role in her life? 

There they were, father and daughter’s heads bent together. Writing. Talking. Giggling. Thinking. It was such a beautiful sight.

Honestly, I didn’t realize how much emotion could be wrapped in a simple nursery school composition. That moment was warm and cozy altogether.

Something in me was healing. Melting. Opening. 

Kachi was spelling the words, and she was writing them carefully, her little fingers gripping the pencil with all the seriousness of a four-year-old on a mission. 

Thankfully, I sent a shot of the page to Kachi yesterday, telling him he’d be doing this with her. 

The little composition might be a school assignment, but it was a love note written to me in real time. As Kachi asked, “The name of my father is…?” Kamma replied, “Kachi.” I smiled.

Then he continued to number two, three and four, “Is Daddy dark or fair?” She looked up, studied his face for a second, and said, “You’re dark, Daddy.”

“What’s Daddy’s favourite food?” Everyone chorused, “Eba!” I think this one is public knowledge. Kachi doesn’t play with Eba. 

Then we got to number seven. This is where it got more interesting for me. Years ago, Kachi prided in calling someone else his best friend. This morning as he sat beside his daughter spelling out the words, I heard; 

“Mummy is daddy’s best friend.” 

Boy, my heart screamed. Whaat?!! It’s no longer his childhood friend? It’s no longer his driver? Wow!!!

That moment right there. Priceless!

And he quickly added, “Let’s write Amaka. A-m-a-k-a.”

I was slowly sipping that in until they got to the final line that got me teary-eyed:

“My father is dear to me because he loves me.”

I paused. That was it. The whole point in one sentence.

“My father is dear to me because he loves me,” how much more can I say of God!

He loves me — completely, intentionally, and endlessly.
He watches over me, teaches me, corrects me, laughs with me, and writes stories with me. He is my Father, and I am His daughter.

My Father is dear to me because He loves me. Aw.

“See how very much our Father loves us, for He calls us His children, and that is what we are!”

— 1 John 3:1 (NLT)

Thanks for reading.
Stay positive.
Stay inspired.
Stay be-YOU-tiful.

Written by Nwamaka Onyekachi
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Heart Rays . . . giving light.