When my daughter was 5, she drew a family portrait which conspicuously did not include myself.

When I asked her why it was only her Mommy, herself and her sister, her reply was candid: "Daddy is always out somewhere ..."

The thunderbolt hit home.

I coveted God's mercies and was granted a new lease. I began to spell love with tangible involvement.

The following year, a school project required another family sketch.

The colors of her rendition narrated grace.