Well, this weekend has seemed a perfect storm of eventfulness and emotion. As our church celebrated its 100th year of existence, our daughter celebrated the first year (outside the womb) of hers. After the flurry of bittersweet emotion yesterday and today, I'm comforting myself with NFL football and generic potato chips. Nothing to soothe the soul like a crispy flake of grease with no nutritional value. As I write this, Rylie is dealing with a pretty nasty cold, and while I've been rocking her back to sleep I've had a chance to reflect on the experiences of the past year. Here's what I've compiled:
A year ago today, I watched in awe as my wife brought our first child into this world. I cannot adequately describe the emotions that occurred within me as a new daughter opened her eyes for the first time and I heard my wife say so simply and profoundly "Hi Rylie, I'm your mommy!" I, in tears for most of the afternoon, remember her looking up at me for the first time and being suddenly aware of how unprepared I was for such an immense new set of responsibilities. The past nine months had been exciting, new, filled with expectation. This feeling was so much different; hopeful, beautiful, and yet accompanied with a noticeably weighty sense of trepidation. Whether it was emotion or adrenaline I can't know, but my mind felt so totally aware. So much unknown and uncontrollable. An intense realization of life's frailty and magnificence.
It was so much more amazing than I could have imagined. God's grace and power were so evident in that room. I remember just thanking God so much... I don't know why he would elect to give us such an incredible blessing. Being a daddy for the last 21 months has been like a crash course in God's sovereignty. When I think about what Rylie's birthday means, I see now that it's so much more about Christ than about us. Every smile, every joy we've experienced is a testament to his providential love.
Every time I see her smile, I have to give praise to the one who formed those beautiful eyes and goofy grin.
As I have watched her grow, one of the most common thoughts I've had is that our vocabulary does not have nearly the power to aptly describe what this sort of love is really like. I often attempt to tell Rylie how much I love her, but I never feel like words can do it justice. In moments like tonight, looking down at her sleeping sweetly in my arms as I rock her (stuffy nose and all), I realize that they're not supposed to.
A year ago today, something awesome happened. I learned in a powerful way that my life isn't about me. Every time I forget that fact, a beautiful, quirky, joyful little girl reminds me that my heart will never be mine again, nor would I want it to be.
