"Who do you say that I am?"

My toddler recently started exclusively calling me “mommy.” 

We are unsure how he picked it up, but one day it switched from his previous babble of “mama” and it most definitely has stuck. He knows that calling me that gets a response.  And he’s very proud of the fact that he can say it at any moment: over the monitor at 2 am, loud in the middle of Mass, or, my personal favorite, when he sees me coming towards him still far off in the distance. 

And I’ll be honest, sometimes he gets a tad repetitive. Sometimes it’s delivered more demandingly than endearingly. Sometimes it’s accompanied by a nagging pull on my leg. Sometimes the inflection is full on whiny. 

But I never, ever can come to mind it. 

Because every time, even if what he’s getting at is something I can’t give him (like another lick of ice cream, or even more time outside, or to play with those shiny enticing scissors) the truth is, I am honored by it. 

I am honored because he is reminding me of a title I have been given. I am honored because it is the unique form of the title that he has bestowed upon me.  A title that I only have because of his very existence. A title that signifies a role with so much meaning and importance. 

“Mommy.”

It is an honor and a privilege and a joy to be called that. To hear it come from his own mouth makes me unspeakably proud. And my husband feels the same about his new title: “daddy."

Even when it involves sticky fingers and ear-piercing screams and repetitive demands. 

And I’ve recently started wondering, is this how God the Father feels? 

Or, rather, is this how God the Father would feel if I was a bit more honest? 

Let’s back up first. The title of God as “Father” becomes much more explicit in Scripture in the New Testament, as seen in Jesus’s relationship with the Father and the clearer revelations in both Scripture and Tradition of the nature of the Trinity. But the image of God as Father goes back to the Old Testament as well, where the prophets and the writers of Sacred Scripture refer to Him as such. And it is through Baptism that we are all offered the possibility of becoming adopted children of God. Now is not the time for a full exegesis of the point, but I think we can all agree. 

We can all truly call God “Father.” He wants to be called that. He wants to be known and referred to as “Our Father.” This is a title He does not shy from. 

But, is it a title I shy from?

“Daddy.” 

Now, I’ll be honest, when I hear spontaneous prayers addressed to “Daddy God,” I am one of the first to lose interest. The sentiment does sometimes seem irreverent or cliche or just straight up cringe-y. 

But I’ll again be honest. My toddler, when he really wants something, isn’t poking my husband saying, “Almighty God.” He isn’t saying, “Heavenly Father.” He goes straight to what the core of the relationship is. He goes to the only title he knows to actually work because it is actually a title of great intimacy. It is a title of great power. It is a title of great love. 

He calls my husband who he is to his eighteen month-old heart. And in his simplicity and littleness and trust and love, that is “daddy.”

So, when it comes to my prayer, do I hate that title because it actually scratches at my own lack of simplicity? Of littleness and trust and love?

I’m not saying you need to start leading your every prayer in this way. I understand if you don’t want to. What I am saying is though, if in the quiet of your heart you are deeply uncomfortable with thinking of God as “Daddy,” is there room for some reflection and growth there? Is there something holding you back from acknowledging Him in that way? 

Jesus asks the disciples in the Gospels, “who do you say that I am?” Peter responds boldly and uniquely. Could the Father be asking us the same thing? And would it really be so bad to come up with a new form of His name, specific to our own unique relationship with Him? The word “Abba,” frequently used throughout Scripture to describe God is also a word that implies deep intimacy, connection, and personal relationship. 

We are told to become child-like. We are told to be persistent in our prayer. Maybe it’s ok to nag a bit, or poke, or call out in the middle of the night. Maybe it’s ok to use child-like titles and be unashamed of yelling them across the playground or at inopportune quiet moments. Maybe it’s ok to speak out loud the depth of the intimacy you have with Him. Maybe it’s ok to just call Him who He is to you. Maybe it’s ok to remind Him of the title He has. 

Maybe, we give Him joy just by calling Him who He is.