Life amazes me. The creation of it. The beginning of it. The living of it.
When my year and a half year old was born, I cried as they lifted him up and he peed on the nurse. I looked at my wife, who was dazed a bit from the ordeal, then looked at my son again as they set him down on the scale, his lungs filling with this fresh new air then letting that air back out again in the form of a wailing scream, and I prayed, “Thank you Lord”
Thank you Lord for these lives and for putting them in mine.
Leonardo there, to the left, is set to see daylight in just a short few months. He’s pushing and pulling at his mother, eager to get out I think. Already, before he even takes his first breath, I’m imagining him in twenty, thirty or forty years. What kind of man will he be? Will he be strong and brave? Kind and caring? Will he stand up for those who can’t stand up for themselves? Will he know God on a personal level and not just as some abstract idea? In those years after I’m not there, what will his memories be of the time I’ve spent with him? What can I do to help these next few years I have with him, bring light into his eyes?
These are the things I think about.
I’ve been looking for work now since the summer of last year. It’s been a struggle to get through, wondering how the bills will get paid. Feeling disconnected from my own self-worth. Scratching at the buzzing in the back of my head that asks, if I’ll ever find work again and most importantly, when?
When I see this picture though, and I lay my hand over the smooth skin of my wife’s belly, inches from him, I don’t think of what is waiting in the future. All I think of is that life is amazing. In every single way. Every single day. That my primary job on this earth, at this moment, is to be a father. Whether I find work now or never. Whether we are able to move out of the 2 bedroom rust bucket. to a place that will actually fit more than 5 people soon. Whether or not this or that. My job is being a dad. That, my friends, is amazing.
If you came here looking for the Forrest Fenn posts, they’re on you’re right. I’ll have more later when I get a chance. Now I have to go pick up my 16 year old from driving school.
Be safe out there.