Category: Different Moments

When I was growing up, it was all a lot easier. You kinda just followed the adults that were in your life. They “created” the way things were. No reason to ask questions. No reason to rock the boat. Nothing to question.

It became a pattern. It was a part of life on such a daily basis that I never really thought much about it. Day in, day out, it was almost like breathing or eating. Something you just do, not something to think about or analyze.

Then in youth group age even, I became blindly optimistic. I actually DID think about it, and still it made sense. Made sense to the point where I became passionate about it. I got to the point where I thought I knew what I was talking about. I told other people how THEY should think. I told my perspective and my thoughts simply because I couldn’t understand why anyone would ever think/believe differently. My youth pastor had given me a Wednesday night to speak to the group, and it was part of my entire message that night. Looking back, I’m sorry for those I neglected to love.

Then I went to college. It seemed to be a “free for all” there. Sure, you’d meet some people who would back up your beliefs, but over-all…who knew what anyone actually lived by. People in college just want you to know how cool they are without trying to be cool. How trendy or hip they are. There are some that would deny any belief in it just because belief of this type was thought to be “childish” or “unnecessary”.

Then I graduated college…and entered the “adult” world. The world where it seemed to matter less and less on a regular basis. Once in a while it would still come up. I’m a youth pastor, so you can imagine it would come up sometimes. But overall, on the regular grocery shopping, mall walking, movie watching kinda days…nothing.

Then I became a father. I looked forward to sharing this with my family. To talk with my daughters as they continued to grow and develop an understanding of the world around them. But recently something changed. Something happened. I had a 2 year old.

I no longer believe that toilet paper has to face towards you, coming up from closest to the wall. Because when you do this, 2 year olds can just swat the heck out of it, making the toilet paper spool completely onto the floor.

I guess it’s okay to turn the roll around. Sigh.

I awoke as the natural alarm clock within me suggested, without offering a chance to press the snooze button. It was 5:15am, and the mental post-it note from the night before reminded me I’d not yet taken the garbage to the fence. I was still unsure what time the morning men came and gathered refuse, but I did not want to find out after it was too late. I quickly came to find myself with shorts and flip flops on, crossing the dewy grass toting a giant wheeled garbage can over a yard in need of mowing. Wiping my feet on the kitchen carpet, I patted myself on the back for a responsible use of morning, and paused to decide my next course of action.

Should I wake her?

I decided to make some coffee, and she continued to slumber. In our old house, the kids would have heard dad walking just outside their door, but here I had the privilege of tip-toeing around the first floor while they completed their sleep cycles in peace. A few roads waited passively ahead of me: I could enjoy a bit of uninterrupted reading, wake her up, or begin to prepare for the day; among other things. I chose to wait until just enough coffee was in the pot, to pour myself a tall hot mug of focus (You have to love a coffeemaker that will continue to brew patiently until you return the pot.) and find my book.

I was reminded briefly of important things I needed to get with her about today. But they could wait.

I’d been reading a book on hiking the Appalachian Trail. This morning contained incredible views of nature, combined with interesting stories of locations off the beaten-path, but well worth a brochure – if not a movie. Then it happened – I heard the patter of feet above me. I listened as they quietly traveled the distance of the 2nd floor, down the stairs, and out into my area of the house. Thumb still in her mouth, our 2nd born smiled and mumbled an excited whisper, “daddy!” as she climbed into my lap.

I was thankful I’d chosen not to wake her still. Mornings with my daughters are much better without her. We cuddled, and Sophie willingly recorded a new ring-tone for daddy, before her sister joined us in the moment. It wasn’t long before they returned upstairs to find something interesting from the previous night. Again, I chose not to wake her. Not just yet.

I went upstairs after them to see what was going on, and lovingly shared a few moments where they enjoyed a bed-making lesson from an OCD father. Proudly, I allowed my toddlers to make their own beds, without commenting on crooked sheets or untucked corners. There will be time for that someday.

Oh, the things I would’ve missed if I’d woken her earlier. Sure, there were enough compelling reasons to wake her. Important things. Unimportant things. We hadn’t seen much of each other the day before, and no doubt she had plenty of updates for me.

But as my three girls and I climbed back into our giant, queen sized bed with mommy to talk about the day ahead, and laugh a bit together….I was thankful I’d not turned on the computer yet that morning.

Of course, I had to use her eventually….or I wouldn’t have been able to tell the story of my morning without her. 🙂

And then there’s some days where the best way to show your kids how to love Jesus,

is to be a tourist in the world He created. 🙂

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