“I look like him”

“I look like HIM,” he said, and he pointed at Daddy. 

That was Little Caboose a Sunday or two ago as he got dressed in his brand-new khakis before church. 

This morning as I sat, sipping fresh coffee and writing the next column at the coffee shop, I saw them coming up the street.  There was a big, strong daddy in a navy coat and – sure enough – a pair of khakis.  Beside him was the little boy, dressed in jeans and a navy and yellow Osh Kosh B’Gosh coat, Lightning McQueen stocking cap over his ears. 

They held hands, those two, and the little fellow hopped and skipped up the sidewalk under Daddy’s watchful care.  I waved through the plate glass window, savoring the moment, and they waved back.

I treasure these days, knowing from experience how quickly they pass.  The day is coming when Daddy will walk into the office by himself, and Mama will have no one to wave at through that plate glass window.

These are beautiful moments.  My mother’s heart treasures them, storing them up like precious jewels.

And I wonder, as the child of my Heavenly Father, “Do I look like Him?”