Saturday, June 14, 2014

the father of my children

When I met him he was nineteen years old, playing a guitar, and he had an adorable girlfriend.

It was "nothing at first sight", the kind of meeting that you never think of again because, seriously, why would you?

But we became friends, then neighbors, then we said a forever goodbye and I moved away.

He was destined for ministry. I was destined for something else, somewhere else (or so I thought).

But then, a few years later, it all changed. We became everything to each other.

It was so very, very fun to fall in love with my best friend.

I have to admit, through all those years, I never once considered what he would be like as a father. I lacked any understanding about how important it would be one day, when the children I birthed with blood, sweat, and tears would look for him to see, to know, and to love them.

Parenthood is hard. Children will try your patience, crush your best intentions, and flaunt insanely irrational behavior in your face. Then they will expect you to get up tomorrow and love them anyways.

I married the kind of man who fights to do that victoriously. I'm fairly convinced I won a lottery in heaven somehow.



This man of mine, my Mr. Fantastic, woos his children with tenderness and laughter. He celebrates the best parts of who they are. He tends the weedy areas of their souls. He calms his voice, raises the standard of godliness, and sets aside selfishness for the benefit of his family. Someday my little ones will know what I know, that we don't deserve his love, and that he lavishes us with it simply because he can.

On that day, they will have a sliver of a glimpse at the vastness of God's love for them. For that I rejoice. Maybe it's my children who have really won the best prize of all.

Happy Father's Day, Mr. Fantastic. You are our champion, and my favorite person in the whole world. I'm so very, very glad I married you.


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