I am not worthy

As I've mentioned lots of times, I have four young sons. My love for them is an ache, not a warm, fuzzy thing. It is a fierce love. I have had the "Mr. T" attitude of protecting them: "I pity the fool who would try to mess with them".

So now, I am left standing here, realizing just how far my puny love falls short.

I read this, and realize, I am not worthy.

My puny love falls short when confronted with the mighty love of God - the depth and strength of that love, as it reaches out from a greiving mother to the man who killed her children, leaves me with no words worthy of that devine moment.

At times like this, when I see just how shallow I am, how far short I fall, I think of a phrase from a Bruce Cockburn song which sums things up in a visually rich metaphor: shipwrecked at the stable door.