You and God

The two year old can’t talk, doesn’t have the words, but reaches up her hands to strong young daddy. He reaches down and lifts her up, cradling her in his left arm as she clings to his neck. He pushes open the screen door, strides into the back yard picking up a small plastic toy shovel on the way. Hands it to toddler. He walks into the garden, sets her down in a safe spot and shows her a digging motion with the toy shovel “Dig sweety. Dig like this!” She has no clue what a garden is- what planting, weeding, watering, harvest are. No clue about the fathers plan, about the future, how things work, what to do. She is blissful, ignorant- basking in daddy’s presence. He sets to work with a will and a purpose, turning over the fallow earth. She whacks the ground with the toy shovel feebly, spastically, wobbly gaze immediately towards daddy to see what’s next.

Weeks pass. The season progresses. There they are again, she with her toy watering can, watering stones and babbling to herself. Daddy is watering in earnest, systematically, with a view to the harvest.

Now toddler lounges in the luxuriant shade of a leafy green-bean teepee. Daddy is out in the sun picking luscious juicy plump tomatoes. He picks up toddler on the way to the house to enjoy yummy tomato sandwiches. “You worked hard, sweet-pea” he says lovingly as she rides in his arms with her head on his chest. “Look at what we grew!”