I'm awake.
I remember Him.
I gaze upon them before I part.
They lie in their bed, unaware of me watching.
I leave.
They sleep.
The small home I help provide is their world.
They play.
They explore--learning to move, to feel, to see, to
know--not once thinking of how it all came to be.
Crayons, toys, books--it's all for them.
The fridge opens, the pantry exposed.
They expect food to be there.
Not a thought.
Not a doubt.
Just hunger.
Cereal, milk, yogurt, messy fingers, messy faces--all fed.
Tummies are full.
Now it's nap time.
My wife likes nap time.
Once again they lie in the comfort we
provide--all while I work.
I'm far but close, always thinking of them.
My phone rings.
I only hear breathing.
I smile.
My wife's phone is now missing.
I do it all for them.
I work that they may grow.
They trust so deeply.
How I yearn to do the same.
They see so little of how it all came to be--never
questioning, only trusting.
I come home to second hugs.
Now I'm a horse.
We eat dinner, brush teeth.
Jammie time.
Finally it's bedtime.
Once again they lay their heads on
the pillows we provide.
I will be their protector.
I will be their gentle friend.
I will be my wife's faithful husband.
I am a father.
I am also a son.
And while I may not understand all that He does for me, I do
know that all that I am and all that I have is because
He's a father to me.
I now stand very aware of how it all came to be.