After going to bed last night my daughter came downstairs with tears in her eyes. Before I saw her eyes, I said: “Get back to bed! You need your sleep.” She said, “It’s just something I have to tell you. It’s nice.” I said gruffly, “What?” Then I saw her tears. She said, with me-crushing tenderness: “Dad, this song we sang today in school in Celebration [liturgy choir]. The words. ‘You bleed to heal us…’ It’s so beautiful. So sad.”
She just looked at me. I hugged her and told her what a compassionate heart she had. She went back upstairs. Silence.
I saw all of my day flash in front of me. Busy, rushed, tasks, problems, frustrations, faltering, tired. I suddenly saw everything otherwise. Childhood awakened. The eternal innocence of God. That face. Bleeding to heal us. That tender face, turned toward us. Just listen, really carefully. Sense it?
I melted, surrendering my callous exhaustion. His face in her face.
I pressed my face in my hands, and muttered: “That’s the meaning in all things. How do I forget?”
Then this video flashed in my mind: