A little girl with a golden curls and a tearstained face. Her father, with his rugged beard and strong arms, holding her close. He looks into her eyes and whispers, “I love you.” That was a beautiful thing.
A not-so-little girl who has been learning disagreeable lessons. Her loving Father, who, in a sense, holds the universe with one hand, and her with the other. He has never stopped looking upon her with a smile of love, waiting for her to turn to Him for long enough to catch His whisper, “I love you.” That is, perhaps, the most beautiful thing of all.