Casual pose

Casual pose,
one hand casually draped on my chest.
Snoring squeakily, he fills my view.
My son Micah, you amaze me.
I have such joy holding you.
You are an answered prayer.
I will do my utmost to serve you.

I will be...

I will be.

I will be your voice, Ani,
until you tell me: "Daddy, it's Ok, I can talk".

I will be your coach, Ani,
but sometimes I'll make it hard so you can grow,
until you tell me: "Daddy, I can challenge myself now".

I will view the beauty of this world through your eyes, Ani,
until you can describe the orange in the sunsets again.

I will be your legs so you can dance like a fairy, Ani,
until you are nimble enough to escape my embrace.

I will say aloud: "I love you Daddy", and hear it in your voice, Ani,
until you can tell me directly.

All these things, my dearest Annika,
all these things are coming.
Here on Earth? I don't know, but I know that
you will be perfect in heaven, and you will tell me that you're all right.

My girl,

My girl, my girl,
Do you know?

Do you know your beauty?
I do.
Your eyes, your smile, your laugh, your spirit.
I know.

Do you know your courage?
I do.
Your perseverance, your will, your never-give-up.
I know.

Do you know your strength?
I do.
Not of the body, just now, but of the heart and spirit.
I know.

Do you know your pain?
Yes, you do,
and I do too.
I know your physical pain, emotional pain, and frustration.
I know, dear, I know.

Do you know my mistakes?
Do you know my frailties?
Do you know my fears?
Do you know my prayers?
Do you know my hopes?
Do you know my love?
Yes, my precious daughter, you do,
and this is what keeps me going, day by day.
The sparkle in your eyes outshines any diamond ever found.

Nate, do you remember?

Nate,

Do you remember the time you ran away at the mall when mommy wasn't looking? We Were terrified! I had never been that scared before. We looked frantically for you. Just when we were going to find security, a nice lady led you back to us and life was livable again. We were so scared because you weren't with us and we didn't know where you were. Now though, you aren't with us, but we KNOW where you are. I can only imagine how much better the reunion will be when mommy and I get there. I miss you dude.

Daddy

CNN Story: "I lost both my boys"

A quote from a Dad down in Joplin.
I know how he feels, to a point.
I don't know how it feels to lose _all_ your children.
But I know how it feels.
In my own selfish and self-defensive way, I tell myself that nobody can know how _I_ feel.
I that part of me I ask: "Why wasn't the whole world crying yesterday at 5:08PM?"
How can anyone look at Thomas the Tank Engine without feeling sad?
My pain is deep and incomprehensible, even to me, how can anyone understand?
Then I come back.
I know that parents lose children every day.
Through accidents and through violence.
Through negligence and through intent.
There are sometimes more emotions mixed in other than the loss.
I know that even apart from the feelings of loss, there is this feeling
of both emptiness and an overflowing of love at the same time.
Your love for a child doesn't stop at their death.

When I read of parents losing children, I can only pray for them.
It's too hard to try to understand, or to extend my emotions to _their_ place.
That would destroy me.
To feel the loss of every child I read about, that would destroy me.

I know that children are special to God, and I know that at some point I'll be dancing with Ani and Nate and Micah in a big ring-around-the-rosie circle.
We'll get dizzy and fall down and go "boom".
We'll laugh, and do it all over again.
That's Heaven enough for me, though I know it's much more.

Here it is again.

It's the day.
The worst of the year.
I promise to not let it overshadow anything that Ani or Micah may do,
but it's in my mind.
It's in my heart.
3 years since I heard my son Nate.
3 years since I saw Ani dance.
3 years since we lived in our 1st home,
where we brought our first two children home.
Where they learned to walk.
Where they learned to talk.
Where they learned to love.

It's not a sin to have survived a tragedy.

I really want to get this across to someone new I know, but in doing so, am I hypocritical?
It's so difficult for me to follow the same advice...
"Why did my family survive unharmed when yours was so tragically altered?"
I don't know...Random chance...A chance to learn and become stronger?
However, when I ask myself something similar...
"Why did I survive, and my son did not?"
"Why did I get through and heal so well when my daughter has not?"
"Why couldn't I protect my children?"
Well, then, that's something entirely different to think about.
I wonder why it's so much easier to support someone else, but condemn yourself?

Now, after that self-condemnation...
I know that I'm stronger since the tornado...In ways, I'm softer too.
I was talking with Ani about the things I would get frustrated with:
- The kids jumping in mud puddles
- Ani painting her entire foot while fingerpainting
- Other minutiae
I told her I was wrong to have gotten frustrated, that those things are "fun",
and not in any way harmful or bad.
Life is so short and fragile...jump in puddles with them, point out how colorful their foot is, revel in how the things you take for granted are so big and beautiful to children.
I would give anything to hear Ani point out the oranges and pinks in a sunset again.