I awaken in the night thinking of my family. I always touch, Chrissy, my wife, LIGHTLY...don't awaken her purposely. I walk the halls of the home and spend time praying. I call my children my kiddos, and someone recently told me how disrespectful that it was to call them such names. Wrong.
I always stop at the door and listen to them breathe, in...out...in...out...Beautiful. I pray that the room is filled with the Holy Spirit that fills them. I can't imagine the power Who was there and is still there always when I baptized them both with God's Spirit filling their hearts. I'm just glad I got to be there, and fill in. Sorry Ms. T. I know I just finished a sentence with a preposition, please don't tell the coaches AGAIN.
I'm so blessed to have the family that I have to call mine even when some yell back at me, tell me, "no," when I meant yes, or don't agree with my thoughts. Even when my kiddos get their own ideas, they're still always in my heart, BIG. That's why I stop every night at their doors, hold on tight and pray harder than I ever understood before I knew those little toots.
They'll grab your heart more than you ever figured, huh?
I thought, I crashed motorcycles, broke bones on football fields and softball fields, lost fist fights, won more fist fights, broke more bones, lost games, blah, blah, blah, blah... But nothing hurt more than seeing my kids cry, hurt, or be sick. They're just amazing.
Someday, I hope they know that their weird Dad, who stood at their door and holding on tight praying for them know I would do anything for them, and prayed to the One who can do anything through and with them. That's my prayer.
I will say, a broken know's hurt's a bunch huh?
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