My Little Girl

       Okay, it’s time to get sentimental.  If you know me at all you know how much my family means to me.  They are the gift greater than all gifts in my life and I cherish each one of them, especially my little girl.  While I was growing up I was surrounded by my brother and my parents.  So, when my wife and I had two boys, our family seemed very familiar.  I was in my domain.  It was very comfortable.  Then, along came my little girl and life has never been the same.

       For most of my life girls have been an unsolvable mystery.  Even still I hold this to be true today, but with less intensity than during my youth.  During my younger days I was extremely insecure around the opposite sex.  I knew they were supposed to be ordinary people like anyone else, but I wasn’t really sure how to act around them.  So, with that background in mind, along with my “comfortable” family of three guys and my wife, imagine my thoughts when the doctor cried out, “It’s a girl!”

       I cried when my little girl was born.  I cried when all of my children were born.  As a matter of fact, I don’t see how anyone who witnesses a child being born can keep from crying.  Anyway, after I finished crying, I realized what had just happened.  I was now the father of a new little girl.  The whole idea was just downright crazy!  How could I be expected to raise a child of the opposite sex?  How could I take care of something or someone that had been so mysterious and alien to me for the majority of my life?  Eventually, my anxiety calmed.  I realized I was not alone in my new responsibilities.  I’m not sure I have ever been more thankful for my wife.  After all (stating the absolute obvious) she is a girl!  She would know what to do.

As my little girl has grown to the age of six I can truly say that, so far, my fears have been in vain.  So far, it has been an amazing adventure to see a girl growing up.  There have been tough moments, but there were and are tough moments with my boys, too.  The truly amazing thing has been watching my little girl be a little girl, to see the things that set her apart from all of the little boys in the world.

       My little girl can make me smile in a way that no one else can.  She is delicate and yet very strong.  She is dainty while she lifts a twenty pound puppy and carries him to her room.  She is gentle unless she is beating up on her older brothers.  She works hard when she wants and she does things voluntarily that no one else will do.  Granted, she can be stubborn, very stubborn.  At times she will take punishment instead of doing what she is told.  She will never believe that she cannot do anything and everything her older brothers can do.  She loves her friends and her family, and she hates it when people are mean.  She wants to dance ballet and take karate.  She loves books, soccer, movies, green peas, animals, her mommy, and great big hugs.  She also loves to be tickled.

       My little girl is special beyond words and for me, to hold her is to embrace heaven.  For through her God gives me a treasured glimpse of his unconditional love.

From my desktop to yours, it’s another Alabama memory. 

Thank you, God.

I love my family.  They have been a constant throughout my life.  I still remember the day that God brought each of my children into this world.  Of course, the first is the most memorable.

It was in August of 1994 and I was about to start a new job teaching Alabama history to ninth graders at Northport Junior High School.  I had my classroom ready and was eager to prove myself in this new position.  My principal was aware of the possibility of my absence near the beginning of school, which was a good thing because sure enough, on the eve of my first day teaching, my wife went into labor.  It started as back pains, and then turned into regular back pains.  Once she was having these pains about every five minutes I took a deep breath and called the doctor.  We grabbed her bags and headed for the hospital.  We were awake all night.

Just before daybreak my wife and I were prepared for surgery.  She had pushed and sweated and given it her all.  It was time for a section.  My adrenaline was still pumping as I put on my mask and waited.  They won’t let you in the room for the spinal tap.  I was very nervous, but I wanted to be strong for my bride.  After a few minutes of waiting, I was allowed in the operating room and given instructions.  Somehow, I heard and followed them, but my attentions were more focused on my wife, flat on her back, arms spread out as Christ on the cross, somewhat relaxed for the first time all night.  I sat down and spoke to her, trying to offer continued comfort.  The whole scene was surreal.  The lights that covered her body were intense and brilliant.  The doctors and nurses worked at a steady pace.  I did not watch at first, but my curiosity soon got the best of me.  It was about that time that our son was born.

It was incredible, overwhelming, beautiful, amazing, fantastic, and unforgettable to see a new life, a new person, emerge from under those intense surgical lights.  My first thoughts were of the Creator God who formed this baby from the start.  I had nothing to do with this.  I did not place his eyes where they were.  I did not give him arms and legs and lungs to breathe.  I did not even make him a boy.  All of this was done without consenting me.  All of this was done in the silence of the womb.  It was a gift beyond gifts to be allowed to be the first to witness His creation up close and personal.  When I held my son for the first time I cried and I smiled and I prayed.  Thank you God.  Thank you. 

That is a moment I will never forget.

From my desktop to yours, it’s another Alabama memory.

Resurrection is a beautiful thing!

When I was a younger man growing up in the northern part of Alabama I had a Golden Retriever named Feather.  I remember him with a warm heart even though I cannot bring to mind any specific tender tales to share at the moment.  My most vivid memory surrounds the end of Feather’s life.  He was thirteen and I was approaching my teens when he died.  The day I heard the news was one of the saddest I had ever experienced in my short time of existence.  I remember crying and hurting and hurting some more.  I guess his death really blindsided me.  Somehow I thought Feather would always be a part of my life, and now he was gone…forever.  I cried a lot that day.  I think I also learned a lot without really knowing it.  Maybe that is why I recently felt the need to honor the memory of my childhood companion by bringing him back from the dead.  No, I am not talking about performing a Christlike Lazarus moment.  Instead, I am speaking of turning a vague, shadowy, dearly held memory back into reality.

Three weeks ago my family and I went to a show breeder in southern Mississippi and picked up our seven-week old pet-quality male Golden Retriever puppy.  With too many smiles to count and more happiness than you can find in a lifetime, our new puppy has become a family member overnight.  It almost brings tears to my eyes as I think of my memory reborn and the joy he is already bringing to my children.  What’s his name you ask?  Why, of course, you already know.

It’s Feather.

From my desktop to yours, it’s another Alabama memory.