A year or two ago,

she said you could not control her mind.

She flounced and pouted,

rejected our rules,

scoffed at our faith.

Still, you ran when she needed help moving

in college (though you told her not to)

and helped pay bills you'd advised against.

I wanted to slap her.

You calmed me down, showed me how to love

the daughter who was prodigal for a few short months--

your love drew her back quickly.

A year or two ago,

your junior, the Boy, laughed in our faces.

Said thanks for the advice, but he knew better.

In fact, he thought, church was nothing but

a sham, though he knew there was God...

You walked out of that restaurant with

heavy heart

and still believed, paid the bills,

went running to take him

things he forgot on the end table.

Now he's reading the books again,

walking the walk,

sharing faith--

not ours, his own.

God deserves the credit,

but you showed them

a father's heart,

modeled after

the real eternal Father.

 No wonder

the sun will never set

on my burning admiration.