One night a father overheard his son pray:
"Dear God,
Make me the kind of man my Daddy is."
Later that night,
the same father prayed,
"Dear God,
Make me the kind of man my son needs me to be.”
"There's something like a line of gold thread running through a man's words
when he talks to his son , and gradually over the years it gets to be long enough
for you to pick up in your hands and weave into a cloth that feels like love itself."
--John Gregory Brown, Decorations in a Ruined Cemetery
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