Dear Father,

I remember the day, how I remember the day—when I thought my life was about to end. My heart thumped. My palms grew cold. My head spun. I was scared. I knew you loved me, Father, but I could not figure out what was on your mind, when you began to bind me with the rugged ropes that hung from your shoulder.

The sun was bright that day and your gray hair glistened as you stood under its heat. Your face was grave, Papa. Grave. It’s as if you had seen a phantom. It’s as if you had aged 20 years since we first left home that morning. You looked different. Your eyes darted around the altar, and I knew that something, something dreadful was on your mind. Your eyes flittered. They looked like heavy stones that might drop out at any minute. Your sweat multiplied and fell like little droplets from your cheeks.

I wondered who it was that stood over me. It wasn’t my father, but it was you, Father! It was you.  You seemed like a stranger, but it was you.

I knew you always sacrificed to Yahweh, but on that day there was no lamb, yet you had a knife.

For what?

For whom?

Me?

Couldn’t be!

But it was, yes it was, and I was bewildered. Oh, Father, I could not bear the thought of you giving me away. Why? What would Mother say? She would die.

No way!

But, just as you were about to do the unthinkable…before you plunged the knife into my heart, Yahweh proved invincible. Yahweh called out to you. A black ram bleated, and oh, it sounded like a song. There it was, stuck in the bushes. The sacrifice would not be me. The sacrifice would not be me. Yahweh made a way. God did provide the “lamb.” Oh, Father, it’s been years since that day, yet it seemed like yesterday. Indeed He found a way.

I love you Father. I admire your obedience. I admire your determination. I admire your grit. I want to follow Yahweh too—regardless….

Bless you, my Father. Bless you. I love you, Father. How I love you.

Your beloved Isaac