The Joy of a Daddy Heart

There is a pattern you may have picked up on if you have followed my blog at all – a life moment catches my attention, I stop and reflect on it, God teaches me something in a very personal (and often bizarre) way, and I write about it.

The blog has been pretty quiet for most of the past year.  It’s not that God hasn’t been teaching me through life moments.  In fact, it’s probably quite the opposite.  But the lessons and observations have had a much harder emotional pull upon me.  I wrote about my first-born graduating and such, but this past year has seen my one and only girl – my SweetPea – graduate from high school and go off to college.  For those who know me well, you will easily see the gravity of this process.

I’m getting better.  I promise.

Over the weekend, we moved kids 1 & 2 into their dorms.  It was an emotional time, but through some of the lessons learned last year in this process, I was doing a lot better at being excited for them more than sad for me.  As I prayed over my daughter in the process of leaving her there for the next step of her life, I was teary-eyed, but genuinely excited to see what God is going to do in her life.  It really was a sweet time for me.

But then I got in the car.  Directly across the street from my parking spot is a simple, small house occupied by one of the university staff members who was coordinating the new student move-in/orientation activities for the day.  As I got in the car, I noticed a little girl standing in front of the storm door, obviously looking for someone.  A familiar chord struck instantly in my heart as I saw her straining to see.

Her little face lit up and she began to jump up and down – her daddy was coming across the street.  As her mother came by and opened the door, she burst through and across the porch, arms flung wide, joy-filled voice exclaiming “Daddy!”

Her daddy did what daddies do – he scooped her up in his arms and pulled her close.  It seemed like last week I was coming home to that same scene with my little girl (crowded by several brothers, of course).  But now she’s the one that will be making the home-coming.  And I’ll be the one watching out the window to see her coming up the walk, running out the door to throw my arms around her.

This teary moment, replayed over and again in my mind, began almost instantly to stir a recognition in me of my relationship with my Father.  He is always watching, eagerly awaiting when I will simply come to talk with Him.  At the slightest look toward Him, He comes running out the door to pull me up into His arms, anxious to hear all about what is in my heart in as much detail and at as much length as I will give – even though He already knows all about it.

So, you’ll understand if I wrap this up – my Father’s waiting for me to come and talk with Him.

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