We are currently in the process of moving our daughter out of a crib and into a twin bed. I am both excited and saddened.
There is a lot of joy that comes in watching her get bigger, start to understand things, interact more ably. It's exciting to think that we are starting to discover the kind of person she is, slowly but surely.
However, I am a little melancholy about her eventual transition out of babyness. It's nice to be able to pick her up and hold her and have her burrow her head into my shoulder. It's amazing how she hasn't learned to be self-conscious or embarrassed by things, so so much of her interactions are so open and hilarious. I love how easily she laughs now and how excited she gets about things that I take for granted. Mostly, I don't want her to lose the excitement of seeing me. When she gets up from bed, or a nap, or when i come home from work she's so happy. It is the best part of my day.
I just think about how much of a punk I and my sister were once we got into the older years. I know that my daughter has a way to go, but time moves so much faster now. She will be 5 tomorrow, and 13 next week; the week after she'll be 16 and want the car. In a month, she'll be 18 and maybe going to college, and shortly after that she'll graduate. In 2 months, she'll get married and then she will not belong to me at all.
It's such a short time that she'll want to climb into my lap and I'll read her a book. How much longer will she want to be picked up or climb all over me? When will she stop coming to me when she's hurt, or tired and wants to sleep against my chest?
And in the literal next few says, she will be in a real bed.
I am really excited to see her grow up and become more and more of a person.
I'm just selfishly not excited to watch her need less and less of me.
She'll need you in other, less tangible ways. It's funny how as we grow as Christians, we never stop our need for God. In fact, the more we see our own sinfulness, the more we are aware of our need for him.
ReplyDeleteWhen I was little, I needed my dad to feed me and cart me around and read to me and protect me and help me grow up. I no longer need him for those things. If something had happened to him then, I would have been somewhat helpless (although mom would have been there) and scared. His health has declined in the last year or so and once recently I thought I might lose him. It scared me still, not because I would be helpless, but because my primary model of a man and of Christ would be gone, at least physically. I still need my Dad every day, because much of the man I want to be is in him. In many ways I need him more now than I ever did when I was little. Ruby will always need you, even when she doesn't realize it.