Father's Day

This year was a good Father's Day in many ways; although I didn't expect it to be. I basically hadn't seen the kids since Tuesday night because Megan and I were doing tech for Broadway at Bethel and Megan's cousin Sarah was nannying for us. Wednesday night the kids all left our house and stayed with Sarah's family until Sunday. Sunday afternoon the kids came to campus with Megan's mom to watch the show. It was so wonderful to hug and kiss them. There is so much warmth and love in their little arms. It felt so invigorating to just inhale them after the week apart, when I never felt we'd quite reconnected after our Vegas trip. I bemoan the business of my life that keeps me away from them so much, yet I know that they need to be confident without me there. Maggie is turning into such a beautiful young person. She's got freckles all over her face--signs of happy times under the sun. She shows me such maturity alongside her childishness. There is so much joy in her smile, it hurts to know that she will experience pain at all. Lennon is so full of engagement that it sometimes comes out in kicks and pinches, but he really just wants to experience contact. He's such a good little hugger! He's starting to tell us why things are funny, and they both ask such good questions all the time. Maggie asked me about Adam and Eve recently and whether I believed it was true. She's really thinking about things. What a wonder is wonderment! What a lucky dad I am.

Father's Day is really a time to celebrate the kids and all that they bring; not least of all because we lost Megan's dad on Father's Day, 2007. Remembering him and how he would have loved these two is a wonderful way to celebrate them, while acknowledging and healing from the pain at the same time. If it wasn't for the little lives around us, the loss of the big lives would be too much for the heart to take. So, Jim, here's a nod to you. We miss you so--your steadiness, your thoughtfulness, your sly humor and your gentle direction. Your legacy lives here on earth through these children. You are not a memory to them; you are a real and living person, waiting to see us all again, hopefully later than sooner. And so, the day for fathers that I thought might always be bitter at the memory of your passing, is all the sweeter for the memory of your love.