Dinky

For as long as I can remember both my parents, on occasion, called me "Dinky." I really don't know why. When I asked them they said because I was so little. When I look at pictures of myself and my closest siblings I don't appear to be so little.
I also grew up feeling like I was pretty and very sweet. But when I look at pictures of me when I was small I see that I really wasn't that pretty and I especially was not pretty compared to Susan who was only 18 months older than me and strikingly beautiful. Or Dennis, for that matter, who was very pretty for a boy. I was, in fact, kind of ordinary. So I wonder... I grew up believing I was very special, very loved and lovely and that my parents were so grateful that I was alive. What a priceless gift!
I've recently had opportunity to be around all of my grandchildren. I am frankly amazed at how unique, special, charming, intelligent, loving, talented they each are. Each one is completely different from the others. I look at each one and my heart overflows. I cannot make my eyes see any other way. One of my favorite times in life is when I have one of them to just BE with.
I believe God is the same way with each of us. We are loved because we are God's creation, a part of God. God's eyes cannot (oh, dear! Can I say "cannot" about anything when referring to God?) see it any other way. I wonder if God has a special name for each of us. "Precious", "Treasure", "Delightful"
The name "Dinky" can not necessarily be taken as a good thing. But I took it that way. I suppose it was the way it was said. Or how they said it when they wanted me to know they felt warmth and a special attachment to me. I'd like to hear God's voice. I'd like to just really know. But, I suppose for now, I'll just have to believe.