Monday, November 18, 2013

The Waiting Is the Hardest Part

The other day Josh asked me what I thought our theme for this week should be. Know what I said? Babies.

That's what I said.

Could be because at this moment, Katie is 16 days past her due date. And babies are ALL I can think about.

Here is a photo from a party Saturday night. That's Katie, still going to parties despite wanting to mostly cuddle up on the couch and watch movies until this baby decides to make the scene. And that's one of my BFFs and PTA's own Chris Clark – a self-proclaimed Baby Whisperer – telling this baby to step it up. (Photo taken by up-and-coming Baby Photographer, Kacy Faulconer.)

And I am seeing babies everywhere, now. Neighbors, strangers at the grocery store, random babies who just show up on my front porch, knocking, then pointing at me and laughing when I answer the door. (That last one might have been a dream.)

Look at the cover of this month's Ensign, for crying-gosh-sakes-outloud!

I know, I know. I'm not Katie, carrying around what is most likely a 10 pound baby, so what am I sounding so impatient about? I'm just anxious to hold this new soul, that's all. I love that.

I love the stillness that comes to a home when a newborn arrives.
I love the absolute wonder of new life.
I love the smell of the top of a baby's head.
I love how our babies are consoled by the sound of Katie's voice.

I don't love the worry when you don't know why they're crying, and I don't love the spit ups when you just put on a fresh shirt. But those always seem to work out just fine.

This footage is from the movie The Tree of Life. It is one of the most beautifully filmed movies I've ever seen. It's often impressionistic, and I don't often recommend it - because maybe you'll love it, or maybe you will find it boring and strange. But I loved it. 

Speaking of the Ensign, in President Eyring's talk on Sunday morning he quoted President George Q. Cannon: “There is not one of us but what God’s love has been expended upon. There is not one of us that He has not cared for and caressed.”

That observation reminded me of an image I once held, just briefly. I was sending Abbie off to Girls Camp, and before she left, I sat and visited with her. I hugged her and kissed her and offered words of encouragement and love. That was me, a super-flawed mortal father. And Abbie was leaving for only a single week. I couldn't help but think of how a perfect Father would spend a few moments with His child He loved perfectly before sending them to mortality. A few moments where He cared for and caressed His child at the start of their mortal journey that would last much longer. At least to the child.

And then that child arrives in your arms. And you almost swear that those impressions are still enveloping that baby...and you are somehow privileged to feel them. As if heaven is tangible for just a bit. 

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