Fathers' Day ended up as a big event at our house. Abigail Lindsey Jolly arrived. Three weeks early. Surprising her momma and daddy and all the rest of us. It was a day if rushing around tyring to get all the folks in the right places. Abby's grandma from Minnesota flew in just in time. Big brother Isaac was shuttled from hospital to our house and back (but got to enjoy a bit of the "cousins camp" along the way) It was a whirlwind of logistics, hurrying, waiting, thinking through cars and carseats, and all the while silently praying that the delivery would be timely and safe. It wasn't until we crawled into bed on Sunday night that my bride reminded me it was Father's Day, and she was sorry I spent it rushing all over Dallas. I told her it was a great day, a trifecta day, I got to see all my grandchildren on the same day and all were safe and sound. What could be better?
It occurred to me in the midst of all this rush that there may have been some things I have not taught my son. He was holding up well, but had that shocked, slightly dazed, happy, concerned look on his face. I'm sure he feels that since he has a son, he knows the ropes, he knows what to expect. But as one who has two daughters and one son. Daughters are different, not better, different.
Sons become the little shadow behind you for the chores. They want their own tools, they want to throw everything, they like hitting things, and they like to tag along on their daddy's heels. It is one of the most gratifying things in the world to have this responsibility. Of course, they go their own way eventually. There are differences, but the golden years of tee-ball and yard work and hunting are all memories and teaching moments that every daddy should enjoy.
Daughters on the other hand tend to intimidate us. We don't really understand the language, we don't understand the dress code (how in the world do moms know these things? I think there must be an underground handbook that dads don't get) and we sure don't understand the emotional landscape. But daughters capture us early. Somewhere in our house is a picture of me holding my oldest daughter Jordan. She is only few days old. The shot is me sitting on the couch, elbows on knees, holding this little girl out in front of me, staring at her in wonder. The expression is still there on my face, with her and her sister. We look on them with wonder. How can I protect? How can I insure their safety and happiness? It might have been a different look had I known what I know now. These little girls are much tougher than I would have imagined. Both of my girls have had to endure things I wish I could have prevented, but a daddy's ability to protect only goes so far and is usually nothing more than an uncharted heart and a lot of tears.
So I'm hoping my son intuitively knows how to deal with this little girl who is going rewire his world. I'm hoping that he will understand that she will get her view of men by how she observes her daddy. This will put tremendous pressure on him to model the kind of man that might one day occupy her life. I'm hoping that he understands that the way he treats her momma will be the framework for how she will expect to be treated. It is a tall order and one that a lot of men stumble over. But he is a good man and will rise to the occasion, just like my sons-in-laws have done and continue to do.
I haven't gotten to hold Miss Abby, or tell her how much I love her. I hope to when I get home from this trip.
Godspeed, we have added another traveler to our journey and she is a doll.
Don
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