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.
