Gifts of a Parent

                When I answered my phone this morning I couldn’t have enjoyed my grandparent’s wheezy rendition of “Happy Birthday” any more than I did. I was told grandpa was singing in his best falsetto in the background. On a whim I decided that I needed to go visit for a few minutes after that call, so Megan and I drove right over. Something ridiculous and wonderful happened to us yesterday, and I thought they should know about it. The details of what happened are for me to know and for you to find out if ever you get the chance.

                Grandma nearly collapsed when she found out what the surprise was, made more wonderful because it was only made possible by my dad. In trying to figure out why on earth Dad did what he did, Megan noted that there was really no good way to repay the man for what he did and continues to do for us. Grandma then said what made no sense at first and would have never crossed my mind, “Burkley repaid him when he was born!” In words so perfect I couldn’t do them justice, Grandma expressed that parents are forever repaid, prepaid, for their efforts by just having children. The gift and blessing of children is forever and always superior to anything parents could provide in return.

                She attested with some emotion that the position of parenthood was a sacred, sacred thing, and even the struggles and miserable times of raising children were supreme blessings in the lives of the parents. She told us the birth of a child automatically and completely shifts the focus of the parents’ lives. Having children changes our perspective on the continuity of life. Up until that point we are the end of everything we do. After that first child we aren’t our own first priority anymore, and we don’t want to be. So, when I was blown away yesterday by the honest generosity and love of my dad, it wasn’t that much of a big deal to him; I had already been the kind of gift in his life he couldn’t repay me for. Suddenly the tables were turned, and I couldn’t believe I could be something like that in my Dad’s eyes. Here I thought we were indebted to him, not the other way around.

                Then I remembered the conversation he and I had on my wedding day. We were walking around the tables at the reception. The doors were going to open in twenty minutes. As we talked, all I could think about was how beautiful the place was, decorated with things that were not mine and were offered to us free. The food that was laid out was either bought by Mom and Dad or donated to the cause. Displays highlighting my life and Megan’s life were put together without me having to do anything. A giant quilt, handmade by Grandma, hung in the corner. I had almost nothing to do with the magic of the day other than enjoying it, but Dad had almost everything to do with it. I turned to him and told him how thankful I was that he had made the day so great; his response was, “You have done more for my life than I could have ever done for yours.”  After today, his answer makes much more sense.

                All of this has opened a new level of love in parenting to me I can’t yet understand. As Grandma also said, the kind of relationship she was talking about can only come by experience. I knew Grandma loved more deeply than most, but what I saw and heard today was something more reverent, something that took her whole heart to say. Of all the things I could get from Grandma on my birthday, nothing could have been more important or precious than what she taught me about love.

Who do I want Him to Be?

                

Last weekend marked the end (hopefully) of my first baby shopping experience. Megan and I spent hours cruising Idaho Falls, mostly to learn that the biggest things we needed we could get for hundreds less online. I managed to hang on until the bitter end though. We wandered through Toys R’ Us for an hour too long, being kids ourselves instead of looking for the things our kid needed. I came across some brilliant marketing from the Home Depot in my wanderings; A toy weed eater. Yes, a toy chore. Really, it’s genius. If we can get the children to believe early that trimming weeds is fun, having teenagers will be a delight. They will fight over who gets to use the real weed eater. I need to invest in a toy dishwasher, a toy garage to sweep out with a toy broom, toy clothes to fold, even toy bills to pay! Look how fun, kids!

                In a more serious way, this little baby trip has moved me closer to squaring with being a father. There’s only about a month left now. For anyone who hasn’t waited through eight months of pregnancy yet, enjoy the time you have without it in your life. Knowing a baby is coming, then having more or less nothing happen for eight months is about as fun as watching paint dry while sitting on a cactus, to say nothing of the ordeal actually carrying the baby is (as if I was qualified to say anything about that anyway). Over and over again we have wondered and worried about what our life will become when Lucas is finally born. The biggest and most overwhelming feelings for us have been excitement and joy, of course, but the package deal comes with terror, nervousness, inadequacy, and all the rest.

                More personally my thoughts have revolved around a single question: who do I want my son to be? Several weeks ago now I was talking with a coworker about the difficulties in her own life, and I pointed out that one of the hurdles for her to get over was figuring out who she wanted to be. If she could get a solid handle on that, all the other choices in her life would become pretty easy to make, at the very least the right choices would become easy to see. Getting that down sooner rather than later can and would make all the difference in anyone’s life. Being like someone isn’t quite strong enough either; finding an example to model is only preparatory to becoming something, only training wheels on the bicycle.

                I don’t want Lucas to be like me, either. I have plenty of flaws, and my interests very well might not be his interests. I wouldn’t want to keep him from something he might love for the sake of having “a chip off the old block.” The only things I would hope to see him emulate in my example are what I would show him from my own greater example. I want him to first be like the Savior, then become a disciple of Him.

                I want him to choose to do good, not be forced into it.

                I want him to be kind first, never cruel.

                I want him to be strong in the face of conflict.

                I want him to be humble and work hard for what he has.

                I want him to see learning as a tool and a treasure.

                I want to give my best to him. I pray my best will be enough.