Tuesday, September 21, 2004
God is not without a sence of balance. As we prepare to mourn the passing of a family matriarch, I celebrate my youngest daughter's 2nd birthday. Bailey is 2 years old today. 2 years! So very much has changed in such a small amount of time.
I look back at the day Bailey was born, and contrast it with today. I see the happiness that was and stare at it with wonder and envy. There isn't any happier moment than the birth of a baby, especially one that is as beautiful as Bailey was.
Beginning and end.
I wonder about my own great-grandparents, and if they looked upon their children in awe as I do with my own. I wonder if they ever could have imagined how life would unfold for the gift of life entrusted to them by God. That it would produce so many children,and grandchildren,and great-grandchildren.
I wonder what fate has in store for my own. I am excited and hopeful and terrified for them. So it is with parenting, I suppose.
I find comfort in my surroundings. I take a blanket my grandmother made for me that is draped across our rocking chair. I swaddle my Bailey with it, and sit and hold her on my lap. She drifts asleep, warm and content in my arms. I am immediately envious, wishing that I could find that same solace in my life, and cling to her to keep from drowning.
Bailey, even after raising you two sisters, I could never imagined how much happiness you have brought me. The brilliance of the gleam in your eyes is blinding, and nothing quie makes my heart jump as when you call me "Daddy", grinning ear to ear when I walk throughthe door. For one of your sweet kisses on the cheek, or a hug, I'd endure even the most peanut-buttery hands and grape jelly cheeks. (And often have.) To me, either would be more preferable to a spotless or stainless shirt. Thank you for constantly reminding me of how precious life is. THank you for proving that God exists, and that I am one of his favorites. I must be, to be given such a gift as a daughter like you. You'll probably never see this or hear this, but if I am lucky, it will remain commited to the limitles ether that the internet universe has become. An unbroken and unending declaration of a father's love for his daughter.
I look back at the day Bailey was born, and contrast it with today. I see the happiness that was and stare at it with wonder and envy. There isn't any happier moment than the birth of a baby, especially one that is as beautiful as Bailey was.
Beginning and end.
I wonder about my own great-grandparents, and if they looked upon their children in awe as I do with my own. I wonder if they ever could have imagined how life would unfold for the gift of life entrusted to them by God. That it would produce so many children,and grandchildren,and great-grandchildren.
I wonder what fate has in store for my own. I am excited and hopeful and terrified for them. So it is with parenting, I suppose.
I find comfort in my surroundings. I take a blanket my grandmother made for me that is draped across our rocking chair. I swaddle my Bailey with it, and sit and hold her on my lap. She drifts asleep, warm and content in my arms. I am immediately envious, wishing that I could find that same solace in my life, and cling to her to keep from drowning.
Bailey, even after raising you two sisters, I could never imagined how much happiness you have brought me. The brilliance of the gleam in your eyes is blinding, and nothing quie makes my heart jump as when you call me "Daddy", grinning ear to ear when I walk throughthe door. For one of your sweet kisses on the cheek, or a hug, I'd endure even the most peanut-buttery hands and grape jelly cheeks. (And often have.) To me, either would be more preferable to a spotless or stainless shirt. Thank you for constantly reminding me of how precious life is. THank you for proving that God exists, and that I am one of his favorites. I must be, to be given such a gift as a daughter like you. You'll probably never see this or hear this, but if I am lucky, it will remain commited to the limitles ether that the internet universe has become. An unbroken and unending declaration of a father's love for his daughter.
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