Can I just say how much I love my children?
This morning, as my youngest child headed out the door for school, I stood at the open window and barked goodbye to him. Yes, really. It's a family tradition, which started when our dog was just a puppy and would bark like crazy whenever anybody entered, exited, or walked past our home. It's a way of saying "Goodbye, I love you, have a good day, I'll miss you, come home safe."
As he opened the car door, my son looked up, grinned, and barked back at me. We kept it going for a good 30 seconds. In those 30 seconds, my mind flashed back 12 years, to when I had a similar conversation with my oldest son, and then in an instant I remembered all the fun morning rituals I have shared with my daughters as well.
I've been especially blessed in this life to be a father, not only to my five biological offspring, but also to their friends, their classmates and teammates, and now their spouses; to my nieces and nephews; and to many of my Boy Scouts and my students over the years. I treasure these relationships more than any Italian villa or stock portfolio. And the ones I treasure the most are the ones I share with my own sons and daughters.
The psalmist said, "Children are an heritage of the Lord ... happy is the man that hath his quiver full of them." If that's the measure of happiness, then I'm happy.
Essays on current topics and marginally relevant events. Written by a twenty-first century Renaissance man, a father of five with hundreds of children, a papa who isn't a father, and an uncle who isn't an uncle. Written by a computer professional who doesn't like computers, by an outdoorsman who doesn't get enough time outdoors, by a meat-eater who enjoys garden burgers and veggie pizzas, and by a poor man who is rich in things money can't buy.
Showing posts with label quiver full. Show all posts
Showing posts with label quiver full. Show all posts
Friday, August 21, 2009
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