Being a Father

The other night I was at the computer when the little gal woke up. 

I was trying to finish a couple of posts and so I took her upstairs to her dad.

This is just another reason that I love him.

He was all snug in bed reading his book, one of a string of biographical stuff he's been reading lately.

We walked into the room.

Looking over and seeing her with me, his face broke into a big smile.

Bookmark went in the book.

Book went back on his night stand.

I said I wanted her to snuggle with him for a few minutes while I finished something.

(We kind of have this deal: he gets up with the  boys and I get up with her.  But it's not really a firm deal...we help each other, too.)

He pulled back his covers and made a spot for her.

I left the room, watching them both turn on their sides facing each other, smiling and giggling.

When I came up about 30 minutes later, I found them like this.

All was peaceful and quiet, and my heart felt warm inside.

This is no small thing.

I think fathers are of utmost importance, and their role cannot be undervalued.

Good fathers are so needed in today's world -- men who will truly be MEN and show their children the importance of integrity, honesty, love, service, hard work, compassion, and how to honor, love, and respect women.

I love this guy.

He is a fantastic father -- and I've said it before, but he literally lights up when he sees our kids.  He is committed to, and takes time for, them.  He takes them exploring and adventuring, lets them work with him, goofs, wrestles and is silly with them, reads them bedtime stories and sings them songs.  

This weekend he is starting guitar lessons.  The other night, while cleaning up dinner, we were listening to Keb Mo's Lullaby Baby Blue and he repeated the track after we'd listened to it.  I said something like, "Hey, once you learn your basics, you'll be able to sing this to them at night."  And he said something like, "That's what I intend to do."  He teaches them respect and self confidence and is sensitive to their needs.

I'm grateful my children have this.

The People That Make It Matter

I feel compelled to write.

There has been so much on my mind though, that sorting it all out seems a bit confusing. So, here's my attempt.

Ever since Nienie's crash (see here to follow updates), I have been quietly thinking and praying and evaluating. I have been surprised and blessed to see how much a woman that I have never physically "met" has influenced my life. I remember seeing her in high school but we never knew each other then.

I have thought essentially about three things: my belief in the power of prayer, the power of example, and the power of family.

I know I have been prayed for my entire life. I have been blessed with great parents and grandparents, to say nothing of joining yet another family and getting another set of parents who care when I got married. I know all of these people have prayed for me. They have prayed for my success and my happiness. I know, because I now know, personally, what it is like to love a child and to dream for them -- and to pray in their behalf because of that love. And I do this because I know my voice and influence are small, and that there is a greater Power beyond myself who has an infinite ability and reserve to bless and to heal and to lead. I feel connected in these prayers.

But I also was just thinking a week or so ago about specifically asking a friend of mine to pray for me about a year ago now when I felt pretty emotionally destitute. I think I have probably asked others in times past as well when I have needed added comfort and strength. But now, as I have added Stephanie and Christian to my prayers, along with other people in my life who mean a great deal to me, I have thought about the special privilege it is to raise your voice and exercise your faith for someone else. It is a sacred trust and privilege and it feels sweet. It feels like the world is a better place, like our hearts are coming together. It is wonderful to ask for blessings and wrestle with faith, knowing that prayers are heard, that we have a Heavenly Father who is in control.

These prayers are real.

This is something that brings a lot of comfort to me.

I've thought about example and about what a small, simple person like me can contribute to the world. In this case, though I've never met Stephanie, I have admired from afar and learned a great deal from her, and have felt inspired to try to send good out into the world, the way she does -- more positive, more love, more kindness. One person can make a difference. And it also makes me grateful for the people that have made a difference in my little life.

And then, I've thought about the people that make it matter for me.

I married my husband almost four and a half years ago. I am more committed to him now than I ever was then, and I love him more. He has made life dreams come true, been my best friend, and allowed me to not have to be any different than what I am. He doesn't expect more, and he encourages me in any thing that I may want to accomplish. I find myself wherever he is, and I am grateful, more and more, that I have someone who loves me. At the end of the day, flaws and weaknesses and imperfections and all, I have a companion, a friend, a lover, another perspective, and strength beyond my own. This blessing has a beautiful song of its own. And the amazing thing is, the melody keeps going and I catch a note here and a note there. With each of these glimpses, each faint lingering of song, comes understanding, depth, gratitude and commitment.

How does my voice even make a stab at giving resonance to that sound?

Last night, I was looking at one of my boys that had fallen asleep on our bed. As I watched him, I saw the same little face that is captured in some of his early baby pictures. I couldn't help but feel emotional as I lay down next to him and watched his face. When I moved him into his bed, I was noticing how quickly he has changed. When they were born, I could hold them up next to me, and their little bodies, head to food, weren't wider than my chest. Now, their legs hang over my arm if I hold them when they are asleep. They are heavy, talking, walking, busy boys. And not a week ago, with the other son, I had a similar experience. Before coming to bed I had been looking at photos of them since birth and felt that familiar pang of time and realizing how precious these moments are. I cried as he lay in bed, asleep, next to me.

In that darkness, I understood the way my parents loved me, the way grandparents loved them, this chain of parents-children-parents-children growing and strengthening into something I am just barely beginning to understand.

And just this past weeked, Scott and the boys and I went to Boise to see my grandparents again. We were up late into the evenings talking, and some of the stories that came up involved stories of my siblings and I when we were younger. The funny thing is that those memories seem like a long time ago, but also, like Jacob says -- almost "...like a dream" -- like they are floating in my past, almost simultaneous with now. And then I have the realization that although to spirit, time is all one and these things shall never pass, time in this existence is real. My grandparents are getting older, just like I am. We have measured time with each other, measured time to love and be impacted and learn what we have to learn from each other.

And I find myself thinking about how these moments are simply without value and the desire swells in me to make the most of everything I have, of each moment I can spend with whoever I am spending it with.

Last night, watching my son, I found myself thinking this thought:

When I look around or think about all the things I could do with my life right now, or when I wonder if I could be anything -- if I had my choice of influence, where would I be?

Right here.

Exactly where I am.

It doesn't get any better than this.