Many people wrote to me today wishing me a Happy Father's Day. They sent encouraging words and let me know how they felt about my fatherhood. Thank you for that.
The past few Father's Days have been filled with traditional celebrations of the role I play in our family. Gifts, food, and a general appreciation for my efforts as Daddy.
This year, however, showed me the true meaning of being a father.
I am here to take care of my kids, love my wife, and to be thankful for what I have been given by the grace of God.
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Taking Care of My Kids
We took some time the day before Father's Day to play. We have a "rice pit" that allows them to sit and feel the awkward yet oddly satisfying feeling of being surrounded entirely be uncooked rice. They played, they scooped, they dug, they enjoyed. I added some plastic balls and made a "rice-ball" pit. They loved every minute of it.
From there we played with shaving cream for an hour. More fun, more tactile sensations, more enjoyment as only kids can elicit.
She didn't wail.
She whimpered and let some tears flow down her cheeks.
She forgave her Daddy.
Taking her out of her stroller after a walk on Father's Day, her feeding tube still doing its work, I lifted her up after checking for clearance of the tube from any snags that the stroller might present...unfortunately when I lifted her the movement of the upward motion caused the tube to shift slightly, snagging on something--and yes...the g-tube popped right out (this was the second time this has happened since it was placed in her belly). For the caregiver it's a creepy, horrible feeling because you can feel the tug; and knowing what's about to happen you simply cannot react fast enough to stop it.
Fortunately there were two other adults with me. We rushed Ella into the house and laid her on the kitchen table. Her eyes were filled with a mixture of fear and disbelief...probably thinking, "Really, guys...again??"
Yes, again. On Mother's Day Lindsay lifted her up from a chair and the same thing happened...on Father's Day--Daddy's turn.
We have extra "buttons" so I raced upstairs to get one while my friends held pressure on the open hole in her stomach. I wrapped Ella in a towel and sped her to the emergency room. I was there and she was being treated in 15 minutes. Time is of the essence as the hole can start closing within an hour. If it starts closing the re-insertion of a new tube gets more complex.
Loving my kids means, to me, that I provide them with all that I can. I tap into their desire to play, to learn and to explore. I make mistakes with them. I do whatever I can to help them through the tough times.
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Loving My Wife
Lindsay went to great lengths, I'm sure, to allow me to bring the kids to see her (after the official visiting hours) so we could spend some family time together on Father's Day. I love her for that..and more.
Lindsay is going through a tough time. She's a sweet, beautiful woman and she is going through a tough time. I've had many choices as to how I am to be in relation to her eating disorder. I am exploring those choices and find myself choosing the ones that show how much I truly care for the woman who sweeps me off my feet each day. I'm not going to cover up the fact that this is extremely difficult for me...I have never been faced with such a set of circumstances such that I find myself in now; but I can say that the simple phrase that the pastor, who married us, said to us right before we left the church on the day we were married echoes in my mind. He told us, "It's not about getting married, it's about being married." The difference between "getting" something and "being" something is what helps hold us together.
Lindsay's going through a tough time...I'm proud of my best friend, my one and only, my wife. I love how much she and our kids love each other.
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The Grace of God
Need I say more??
