My model for God
Daddy was the changeless sun who warmed my life with the security of his love. He was always there, always loving me, always caring for me, even beyond memory.
When I was a four-pound preemie that the country doctor didn’t expect to be born alive, Daddy took his turn at night, after working all day, giving me a half ounce of sweetened water every 30 minutes so I wouldn’t become dehydrated in the sweltering heat of an Indiana summer. But, he remembered, I was an indifferent eater; after three or four sucks I would fall asleep, and Daddy would have to wake me up by thumping the soles of my feet.At the age of 2 I was in a hurry to be grown up. On a …