The first time we found out there was a true sense of anticipation and doubt. We wondered if it was even possible. This time we pretty much knew before she peed on the stick. The first time we were in Paris and a romantic fog hung over a turn of the century cobblestone street. The Eiffel tower was actually visible from our window. It was our five year anniversary. This time it was too early on a Sunday morning and we had been arguing a lot that week. I was burning an ulcer over a job I supposedly left at the office every day. The first time we celebrated with a walk down the Champs Elysees. Today I took the trash out and mowed the lawn.
But today I’m in a better place. We’re in a better place. It’s a less exciting, more domesticated place, but it’s better nonetheless. Today I can thank God not only for the gift of another child but for the growth I’ve experienced on a personal and spiritual level since we first found out she was pregnant nearly two years ago. I can’t name the books of the bible in order or give you and exegesis of the scripture that has shattered and then subsequently rebuilt my hardened heart. I can’t even say that I completely buy in to this whole damn thing or that I want God.
I can only say that I want to want God again.
The first time I wondered how I could possibly raise a child when I was such a disaster myself. How did I stand a chance at caring for a baby when there were times that I completely lost any sense of maturity and responsibility and was still incredibly selfish in my relationship with my wife and friends? This time I feel like I make selfish decisions on a less frequent basis and try to be self-aware enough to continue to make them less and less. The first time I wondered if I would simply sell my child on the idea of Christianity in order to save her from the downside of sin in this world and the next. This time I feel equipped and excited to try and show my children the Jesus that I am coming to understand instead of the Jesus I used to simply talk about. The first time I was expectantly terrified. This time I’m terrifically expectant.
You don't need another blog... but I do. 