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I’ve done some wonderful things in my life.  I graduated college in 3 years, earning myself the suspect distinction of being named Who’s Who in American College students (I think they will name anyone whose parents will agree to buy the $40 book with their child’s name in it).  As a backpacker, I summated a “14er”, which means I climbed to the top of a mountain that has a peak of over 14,000 feet above sea level.  There are less than 60 in the United States.  I went to Princeton Theological Seminary, which means I get to tell people I did my grad work at Princeton.  I married way above my league.  If I figure out how I managed to be such a geek and marry such a beautiful, smart, talented, wonderful woman then I’ll write a book. 

Geeks everywhere will learn how to marry two or three leagues above their heads, and the country will change.  This March will mark our 10 year anniversary.  I’ve been to a perfect game, if you want to talk about perfection, and recognized what was going on by the third inning.  So, I’ve done quite a bit of great, or at least lucky, things.  At least as good as any of those, and better than some, for me has been the opportunity to be a parent.  Granted, I haven’t been getting much sleep, so the observances and attempts at passing on life lessons come from a sleep deprived place, but here they are anyway.

                 Nothing in life brings more stress than a crying baby.  Nothing in life relieves more stress than a baby asleep on your chest.

                 When I hold Murphy on my chest and she sleeps I recognize the wonderful perfection in that.  When I come home from a long and usually fulfilling day at the office, and Kayla hears the garage door open and yells out “Daddy” before I can even close the door, I recognize the wonderful perfection in that.  Being able to love another so quickly and so completely is a mystery, and I believe, a miracle.

                 How is it that children as young as 2 weeks seems to show signs of being ready to be potty trained?  Clearly she knows how to hold herself, and wait for exactly the right moment to use the restroom.  How come the right moment is always when I am changing her, and her diaper has just been taken off?  How come the right moment is always before I have a new diaper in place and have on nice clothes?

                 It’s wonderful when they communicate how much they love you.  Kayla will be in the middle of eating, or playing, or whatever, and just say, “Daddy, you know what?  I love you.”  Nothing better than that.   I think Murphy is able to communicate that as well, when she looks into my eyes with that look of, “Hey, you’re that guy who is always here and keeps saying something about being Daddy.  I know you.  I’ll stop crying if you hold me.”  Nothing better than that.

                 Children cry.  Sometimes we know why, and sometimes we don’t.  Sometimes we can help, sometimes we can’t.  This stays true as they grow up, too.  As children grow into adolescents and adolescents grow into adults, they will get hurt, one way or another.  I suppose the temptation is to make sure they don’t get hurt, that they become sheltered away from most possible pain causing situations.  But then they wouldn’t have full life.  And I’m not for that trade.  Taking away the possibility for pain is a tempting proposition, but the cost of not      

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