He has His Father’s Eyes
By Marva Jean Griffin
Dec 20, 2008
I hold my newborn son so gently in my arms.
And I tenderly caress His tiny form.
His soft features, His tiny hands, I touch them with wonder.
His soft brown hair, just enough there, and His long lashes
Flutter as He sleeps and His mouth moves, and His chin trembles,
As if He is anticipating the meal He will soon partake.
I know He is perfect, so perfect.
And I sit in awe of His miraculous birth. How could I be so blessed?
As I look at his soft features, I realize this boy child is awake now
and looking at me, His mother.
How tiny He is, how beautiful He is
And I know He has His Father’s eyes.
My son grows and is strong—Soon He smiles and coos and laughs too.
His tiny hands want to touch everything.
He is such a good child! No murmuring sound He makes.
I see Him watch and learn and grow.
I see His Eyes that reflect eternity, and He has His Father’s eyes.
Now my son is a young man – He’s grown so fast.
He helps Joseph, and learns as He does.
He watches and tries to emulate Joseph, His earthly father, in everything He does.
He works hard to learn and to please us.
He is a big brother now.
He is gentle and treats His younger siblings with respect and love, watching everything they do.
And as He watches and learns and sees the wonders around him,
I see He has His Father’s Eyes.
My son was lost, or so we thought. But, we found him in the temple.
He was teaching and learning and we saw Him searching all around,
With those beautiful, serene eyes.
And He was respected by the elders who were there in the temple, asking and seeking what He could give to them.
When we asked Him why He had stayed behind in the temple, His eyes registered surprise and then a glint of humor came to them as He asked whither He should be about His Father’s business. And then I knew what His future would hold.
And I could see, He has His Father’s eyes.
Now my son is grown and gone from our home - I miss Him so.
And when He comes home, I see affection in His eyes - for me, His mother, and for His Family.
He tells me of His baptism by His cousin, John the Baptist.
He tells me of the voice from Heaven, which identified that He is His Father’s son.
He tells me how the Holy Ghost came to Him in the form of a Dove.
His eyes glisten with tears as He tells me.
I feel the warmth of His Spirit as I look into them.
And I see that He has His Father’s eyes.
My son’s life is one of service and love to others.
I hear of Him healing the sick and the lepers, raising the dead, causing the blind to see. I hear He fed 5000 people with five loaves of bread and a few fishes.
I hear that He has chosen twelve disciples to follow Him.
He teaches them and ordains them and they love Him and He them.
When He returns home again, I see tiredness in His face and yet His eyes are alive and I see joy in them. I feel His love. He brings peace and joy into our home.
And as I look into His eyes, I see love and compassion and gratitude in them.
And I know that He has His Father’s eyes.
I hear rumors of unrest among the people who follow Him. This alarms me. I worry as any mother would. What will happen to Him?
There are so many people who are so brutal who would cause harm to my son.
I later hear of my son’s anguish in the Garden of Gethsemane.
Of His eyes pleading with His Father, and of the terrible price He paid there.
I could see His beautiful eyes weeping then.
And I know He has His Father’s eyes.
Then I learned of his arrest, the brutal way He was treated and His trial.
I try to find where they have taken Him, I learn of Golgotha, the terrible, terrible place of Calvary. I hurry there, only to find my son - my perfect beautiful, perfect son, hanging on a cross.
How could this happen to my boy? Who did this to Him?
As He is hanging there, I look upon Him as I weep with the sorrow of one inconsolable and I hear Him call out to John, His beloved Apostle, to look after me, His mother. And I look into His eyes, His eyes that are filled with sorrow and pain and in them, I see eternity and I know He has His father’s eyes.
My son, my son. A gift from our Father in Heaven to me – To the world.
He arose on the third day and He lives. And his eyes are no longer closed in death, For He Lives! He Lives!
And I know He has His Father’s eyes.
By Marva Jean Griffin
Dec 20, 2008
I hold my newborn son so gently in my arms.
And I tenderly caress His tiny form.
His soft features, His tiny hands, I touch them with wonder.
His soft brown hair, just enough there, and His long lashes
Flutter as He sleeps and His mouth moves, and His chin trembles,
As if He is anticipating the meal He will soon partake.
I know He is perfect, so perfect.
And I sit in awe of His miraculous birth. How could I be so blessed?
As I look at his soft features, I realize this boy child is awake now
and looking at me, His mother.
How tiny He is, how beautiful He is
And I know He has His Father’s eyes.
My son grows and is strong—Soon He smiles and coos and laughs too.
His tiny hands want to touch everything.
He is such a good child! No murmuring sound He makes.
I see Him watch and learn and grow.
I see His Eyes that reflect eternity, and He has His Father’s eyes.
Now my son is a young man – He’s grown so fast.
He helps Joseph, and learns as He does.
He watches and tries to emulate Joseph, His earthly father, in everything He does.
He works hard to learn and to please us.
He is a big brother now.
He is gentle and treats His younger siblings with respect and love, watching everything they do.
And as He watches and learns and sees the wonders around him,
I see He has His Father’s Eyes.
My son was lost, or so we thought. But, we found him in the temple.
He was teaching and learning and we saw Him searching all around,
With those beautiful, serene eyes.
And He was respected by the elders who were there in the temple, asking and seeking what He could give to them.
When we asked Him why He had stayed behind in the temple, His eyes registered surprise and then a glint of humor came to them as He asked whither He should be about His Father’s business. And then I knew what His future would hold.
And I could see, He has His Father’s eyes.
Now my son is grown and gone from our home - I miss Him so.
And when He comes home, I see affection in His eyes - for me, His mother, and for His Family.
He tells me of His baptism by His cousin, John the Baptist.
He tells me of the voice from Heaven, which identified that He is His Father’s son.
He tells me how the Holy Ghost came to Him in the form of a Dove.
His eyes glisten with tears as He tells me.
I feel the warmth of His Spirit as I look into them.
And I see that He has His Father’s eyes.
My son’s life is one of service and love to others.
I hear of Him healing the sick and the lepers, raising the dead, causing the blind to see. I hear He fed 5000 people with five loaves of bread and a few fishes.
I hear that He has chosen twelve disciples to follow Him.
He teaches them and ordains them and they love Him and He them.
When He returns home again, I see tiredness in His face and yet His eyes are alive and I see joy in them. I feel His love. He brings peace and joy into our home.
And as I look into His eyes, I see love and compassion and gratitude in them.
And I know that He has His Father’s eyes.
I hear rumors of unrest among the people who follow Him. This alarms me. I worry as any mother would. What will happen to Him?
There are so many people who are so brutal who would cause harm to my son.
I later hear of my son’s anguish in the Garden of Gethsemane.
Of His eyes pleading with His Father, and of the terrible price He paid there.
I could see His beautiful eyes weeping then.
And I know He has His Father’s eyes.
Then I learned of his arrest, the brutal way He was treated and His trial.
I try to find where they have taken Him, I learn of Golgotha, the terrible, terrible place of Calvary. I hurry there, only to find my son - my perfect beautiful, perfect son, hanging on a cross.
How could this happen to my boy? Who did this to Him?
As He is hanging there, I look upon Him as I weep with the sorrow of one inconsolable and I hear Him call out to John, His beloved Apostle, to look after me, His mother. And I look into His eyes, His eyes that are filled with sorrow and pain and in them, I see eternity and I know He has His father’s eyes.
My son, my son. A gift from our Father in Heaven to me – To the world.
He arose on the third day and He lives. And his eyes are no longer closed in death, For He Lives! He Lives!
And I know He has His Father’s eyes.
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