Feeling Good About Sitting

I sat in the symphony hall, dress jacket across my knees, Saturday afternoon, Dallas, Texas. I had been before, but different. Seated between my son and wife on the, "Dress Circle," Level of the Mortenson Symphony Center waiting for house lights to dim and the concert to begin.

When the second choir of the afternoon arrived on stage I looked anxiously and expectantly to see my daughter. When I saw her step onto the stage, my heart sunk. That was the baby that cried in the night, the little crawler, the toddler who made messes. She was the same Kindergarten student. Lunch each Friday at school, I brought her, "Taco Bell."

That was the same girl who told her Mom in tears after school, "Trevor said he wanted to be my boyfriend, and DADDY says I can't have a boyfriend 'till I'm OLD!"

That beautiful young lady in the concert attire is the same little girl who couldn't wait to dance with her Uncle "Dido" at his wedding reception. Her chubby little cheeks were gone, and the cute kiddo was replaced with the beautiful young lady.

This one on stage rolls her eyes at me. She sometimes accidentally says to me, "Dude, what's your problem?" EXCUSE ME?!?!

She's the one who crawled into my lap when she was two years old, begging for her beloved pacifier that was taken from her for good that day. With her two little pudgy hands on my cheeks she looked into my eyes and said, "Daddy, I don't want to be a big girl. Can I have my, "baba?""

The little lady who I took to Daddy day at Cotillion.

The little toot who reintroduced me to Happy Meals, and taught me about Hello Kitty, Barbies, and tea parties. Who wore plastic high heals and floppy hats, with gaudy fake pearls.

This is the one beside whose bed I sat in the ICU, praying, hoping, wishing, wanting.

In short. My Princess.

I felt good sitting there on a Saturday afternoon because I heard an angelic sounding choir singing.

In the midst, I could hear MY little angel's voice.