A number of times in the past sixteen months, Sallie and I have talked about some topic relating to being a dad and she says, “you should do a guest post about that”.

Judging by the last guest post I wrote here, you can see that it hasn’t happened in the past sixteen months.

This morning at church our Pastor spoke about the first of the “Fruits of the Spirit” in Galatians 5 which is love. He gave a definition of love which I thought was very good: the overflow of joy that gladly meets the need of others. It made me think of the number of times in the past sixteen months when I cared for Caroline or Sallie in ways that brought joy to my heart, knowing that their needs were being met. Maybe it was just holding Caroline for an extra hour after feeding her at bedtime because she just couldn’t quite fall asleep due to teething problems. Or taking the time to wash the large pile of dishes so that Sallie could get caught up on her blog comments or emails. I knew I was doing something that mattered to them and the sacrifice of my time to do these tasks always brought joy to me.

Pastor Charles talked about the attitude in the act of loving. What if an attitude was, “well, I’m only doing my duty” or “That’s just part of being a [insert role here]”. It’s not as joyful then, either for the giver or the givee. I’ve come to see how much a sacrifice parenting really is now that I’ve lived it for a while. And how I respond to the need determines whether the giving is done with joy or with frustration. I read a very good quote by Elton Trueblood the other day which stated that a number of the things in life that really matter do get done out of the limelight and just because they need to get done. So true. Yet, the attitude plays into the joy of living this parenthood thing.

I love biscuits. Big time. When we go to Cracker Barrel, I order an extra plate and hunker down for carb joy, rating them on a scale to 10. Last year during a visit, I needed to attend to Caroline and feed her for a while. My biscuits sat there and started to get cold. No butter melting, no warmth. The quest for a perfect “10” biscuit would wait for the next visit. “Well, I guess sometimes being a Dad means cold biscuits,” I said. And for the next few months I used that phrase to note a moment of care for Caroline when I sacrificed something to tend to her.

I’m working at not grumbling about my “cold biscuits” in life. Especially when I’m tired or overloaded with business concerns. But when I see my little girl play peekaboo with me on the other side of the table or look at me with those eyes when she wants me to color with her, I have to stop and note that this is why I’m doing all this stuff: I’m a huge part of her world and it matters to her. What I do now sets the tone for the future.

So I’ll enjoy my “cold biscuits” while she sits in my lap as we read Counting Sheep to Sleep for the 10th time that day.

Okay, let’s shift gears and talk about heredity. We have a bib which says, “More like Mommy every day”.

So true. As I watch this little girl develop I’m amazed at how much she’s like Sallie. How she will be amused at a couple of clothing options held in front of her, and pick one with joy. Her mama’s clothing tastes are there. Or she’ll spend time looking at the beautiful pictures in books. Mama’s sense of beauty. Spoonfuls of potatoes are eaten. Mama’s love for spuds. Caroline has a definite opinion about how things should be done. Just like her mama.

Enter a new toy: a Pooh book with a music player that uses plastic discs to determine which set of songs to play. It’s like a little CD player. There’s a stop, eject, and play button. The play button will start a song and then go to the next song if you click it. So Caroline goes click, click, click, click, click, click, click, click, click, click, click, click, click… through several cycles of all six-or-so songs without stopping, only hearing the first few notes of each song. “She’s got my clicking genes,” Sallie says. Ho boy, if you saw Sallie with a remote at a hotel. She rapid-fires through the channels while I think, “my goodness, give the channels a chance to exist! How do you even know what’s on?” Mama’s love for channel-surfing.

Just amazing. I can only shake my head in wonder. I’ve two really fascinating women in my life. Should keep my life interesting.