Six times a year I turn the page in my diary and feel a stab of remorse. There it is, etched in block capitals: “SAM’S BIRTHDAY NEXT WEEK”, followed by five similar warnings over the course of the year – one for every godchild’s birthday. My panicked scribbles reflect my guilt because I must confess I’m not a great godparent. Sending a birthday card on time is the least I should do.
But what else are godparents supposed to do? Pray for our godchildren is the obvious response, but this isn’t the part I struggle with most. I suppose that, like other godparents I have spoken to over the years, I just feel a bit lost as to how to be a good one.
