Three weeks ago today I became a dad, and everything has changed.
All of my life I had dreamt of becoming a dad—particularly to a daughter.
I’m not sure why I’ve had that desire. I’m convinced parenthood is over-dramatized in movies as some new, idyllic stage in life.
When the shrill, tender cries of a baby arouses you at 2:37 AM for her seventh ration of food that night, love feels different.
In movies, love is this ineffable feeling that, against your control, enraptures you day and night. You have no defense. You are an emotional wave tossed to and fro.
But when that love is toward someone who is utterly dependent on you, the adage “Love is a choice” becomes real.
You become part of that new life, and it’s a whirlwind.
My dad always said, “Just wait until you become a dad.”
You’ll start to get a glimpse of how much God truly loves you.
Wow, God is more tenacious then I thought, because the love of a parent requires the most enduring, patient love possible.
The night Sophie was born, I didn’t have that.
The moment she was born, she was alien to me. Not only did she look strange (though I’m convinced most newborns do), she didn’t feel like mine.
It was as if that crowd of nurses who surrounded us at delivery each took a slice of ownership with them.
Somehow, they were more enamored with my flesh and blood than I was. I was disheartened.
Why didn’t I love my child?
But the more time I spent with her alone, the more I saw the love of God in her smile.
Her occasional smirks—perhaps caused by an upset stomach—reveal her debonair personality. Those fleeting moments are winks from God.
In this was manifested the love of God toward us.
Though the love of God in Christ dying on the cross is insurmountable… I get a glimpse of it each time Sophie smiles.
It also means I can shamelessly rock a dad bod.