Wednesday, August 18, 2010


            Last day canoeing.
            As we were drifting along on a placid section of the river with the bright blue sky reflecting from shore to shore, I thought about my son’s eyes – piercing blue and somehow significant. They’re definitely his most prominent feature, a large, bright, and inquisitive.
            They’re so unique, in fact, that my mother randomly said a wonderful prayer of blessing one day – that his eyes would heal people’s spirits with their unique tenderness and light.
            As I drifted down the river and pictured Joshua’s eyes, it struck me how little time I’ve spent with him compared to Celia. It’s been a natural split of duties for Michelle to mostly take care of the newborn while I take care of the older child, but I wonder if it’s caused me to have less bonding with my son. It’s odd because I still can’t believe I’m a father of two now – and yet through the whole trip I’ve been telling all sorts of stories about them.
            I think I need to be careful not to let this time pass too quickly. This stage of life I’m in right now is unique – I’ll only experience it once. How odd, that I fight the temptation to get it over with quickly so that I can move on. I suppose we could treat all of life like that, because there are always going to be things that make us uncomfortable or that are unappealing.
            I think there’s a certain level of enjoyment – or at least thankfulness – we need to somehow find even in the midst of life’s messiest moments. Because, hey, from my experience, the more we truly get involved with life, the messier it gets.

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