Daddy's Hands
Joy, amazement, 'I can't be old enough to be a grandma!', surprise, tears of happiness, and even sadness that my baby now had a baby - I have run through a gamut of emotions since my oldest son became a father last summer. I was in the delivery room at my granddaughter's birth and from those first few moments of watching my son lovingly tend to his wife through each increasingly difficult stage of labor to watching him hold his little girl for the first time - I was enthralled. It was one of those stand-back-and-be-struck-with-awe-moments in life. It was too big to really comprehend. How thankful I am that my sweet daughter-in-love allowed me, along with her own mother, to experience those precious moments with them.
In the nine months since our baby girl was born, I have watched with this same awe as my son has taken on this new role of "Daddy". There have been a few awkward, "what do I do now?" moments, but for the most part he has embraced being a dad with all the wonder, joy, and enthusiasm that makes this mama proud.
One of the things that strikes me most as I look at pictures of him holding his daughter are his hands. He's a big guy (I've been looking up to him since he was in fifth grade!) and his hands are especially big.
I love these pictures of him holding his little girl.
Hanging on to her.
Keeping her safe.
Strong, confident hands, secure in their hold and love for his little girl.
I imagine the years ahead - of her running to her Daddy and being scooped up into his arms or snuggled on his lap, of her holding his hands to cross a street, or just swinging her arm and giggling beside him.
I longed for that kind of relationship with my own dad, who passed away a number of years ago. I knew he loved me, and I loved him, but there were walls between us that hindered any freedom I might have felt to run to him with problems and concerns, or even just to get a reassuring hug. I mourned this void in my relationship with him for years until I realized that my heavenly Father could make up for all the ways I felt my own father lacked.
I longed for that kind of relationship with my own dad, who passed away a number of years ago. I knew he loved me, and I loved him, but there were walls between us that hindered any freedom I might have felt to run to him with problems and concerns, or even just to get a reassuring hug. I mourned this void in my relationship with him for years until I realized that my heavenly Father could make up for all the ways I felt my own father lacked.
It's tough being a parent. You try hard to be the best one you know how to be - but inevitably you'll make mistakes. I'm so thankful that God gave me my own 'not-so-perfect' parents - because I'm certainly a 'not-so-perfect' kid. And I grew up to be my own version of a 'not-so-perfect' parent. (I've told my children 'if you end up in therapy - I'll help pay for it!')
Maybe you come from a 'not-so-perfect' home. I think every family is 'dysfunctional' in its own way, even the best of them, but God can, and will if you let Him, fill in those cracks and patch up what's been broken.
His hands are strong, secure in their hold and love for me. I can run to Him, and sometimes I even imagine that He draws me up on His lap. I reach for those Hands - whenever I'm afraid, or need reassurance, or whenever I just want to let Him know I love Him. And sometimes, just because I want to swing my arm and skip beside Him and enjoy His presence in my life.
All for Him
Missy
Labels: Missy
posted by Missy at
12:01 AM
1 Comments:
Hey...thanks for raising a son who has been such a good friend to me and brought such richness to my life. And so have you.
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