Sunday, June 17, 2012
This morning I helped Judah scrawl "I love you" and draw all over my Father's Day note to Isaac. I want to be intentional, to really recognize the hard work my husband is putting in by being at home with Judah right now. There are days when I leave work and my homebody of a husband is eagerly awaiting my relief so that he can go to a coffee shop and just read without interruption, without the constant demands of a house and a toddler.
Isaac is a good dad. It's fun to watch Judah's relationship with us differentiate. At the moment he gives adorable kisses with little puckered lips only to his daddy. When I ask for them he studiously ignores me, but if Daddy says, "Give me a kiss, Judah," he quickly and gently complies again and again. So funny.
I love watching them read together. Isaac sits on the floor and Judah just backs up into him without looking, knowing that his "seat" is ready and waiting. Judah listens intently and points at the pictures, whereas with me he'll only listen through two pages before he's up and wanting to play again.
This week my siblings and I put together a Father's Day gift for my dad and I was struck just by the pictures of he and I through the years. I hardly wanted to add text because for me just seeing his presence with me through these different stages of life is beautiful. Playing with a toddler, taking a middle schooler "to work" in a village, crying at my graduation, ushering me down the aisle....
I have a good dad. He has loved us all well, but most of all he gently led us all to know that there were holes that he could never fill but that we could know the One that does.
I've been struck recently that I am, of course, able to love and have a small amount of influence in the life of every person I come in contact with. The influence we have in our family, though, is daily, deep, and intensely personal. My relationship with with my husband and my place as a mother to Judah are a special vocation in which I am able to love and transform in a way no one else in their lives can.