Broken

It was two years ago.

We were driving to church, and I was explaining to my oldest, who had told a lie, how people wouldn't believe her if she told lies. I told her how important it is to always tell the truth.

Five minutes passed.

"Daddy," she said, "do you still believe in me?"

My heart broke under the weight of her words. A thousand times Yes! I wanted to scream. I wished that I could pour into her the knowledge of my belief in her like I could fill a cup - filling it and filling it until confidence, born of love, flowed out from her as from a spring. "Yes, I believe in you. Of course. Don't ever think that I don't."

At church, our little house church prayed that God would use it. We prayed for our needs and for the needs of others.

When I prayed, I praised God for His goodness. As the words came to me, I said them. And as I said the words, my heart broke again: "Lord God, Father, thank you for believing in me."

I choked on the words and, no sooner were they out, began to weep. My chest began to heave with the weight and release of it. I left the room as quickly as I could, leaving my prayer where it was.