The Weight of You - A Dad Chronicle
She was sick.
Not sure with what. Probably a flu picked up from one of the billion things she touched throughout the day. With two rambunctious twin girls it’s hard to catch every little thing that ends up in their hands or mouths.
Sometimes Jovi will walk up to Awnna or I, and it’s quite obvious that she’s got something stored away in the cheek like some sort of amiable chipmunk. She thinks we don’t notice but as her Dad, I know the shape of her face and when something is in the cheek I know it’s there. However small it might be.
“What do you have in your mouth?”
And out it comes. Like she’s proudly presenting this little thing she picked up somewhere, now covered in a gallon of baby saliva, and chewed beyond all recognition.
I really can’t wait for this oral phase to be over.
But I digress...
Cora was sick. Nothing really serious. I know because the doctor told us so when we took her in. She hadn’t thrown up but she was making an awful mess of her diapers and she was overly tired.
Cora is our affectionate child. There are a few hilarious times where her affection is on caliber though.
The first is when she’s eating. She can be quite crabby sometimes up until she’s given some food, then she wants to hug, and kiss, and cuddle with you. It’s pretty hilarious actually.
I think she gets that from me.
The other time she’s amped up her affection is when she’s not feeling well. Cold, Flu, headache, It doesn’t matter, she just wants to be held and comforted.
She get this… from her mommy.
She was sick.
And when she’s not feeling well she wants to be held, and with Cora, she wants to be held by Daddy.
I hate seeing my little girls not feeling well, but as a dad, I love when they come up and ask to be held, and when they’re not feeling good that attitude is pervasive.
Cora is lying on my chest in the stillness of the living room and I can hear her breathing through her tiny nose. I can see her chest rising and falling. I smell her hair as she’s nestled in the crux of my next and I can feel the weight of her on me.
It’s a burden I gladly bear. The weight of my beautiful little girl, as she seeks comfort in one of the few places she finds solace.
As I feel the weight of her I feel the weight of being her dad. Her provider, her protecter, her comforter, her friend.
It’s a weight I gladly bear.
The Dad Chronicle posts are my humble attempts to merge the enormity of being a father of twin girls with the enormity God as a Father to His children.
I find it not a little ironic that I learn so much about God as my Father by being a father myself. The good moments, the scary moments, the beautiful moments, and even the frustrating moments.
There is a weight that God carries in calling Himself our Father. He’s a protector, a provider, a comforter, and a friend. God is a corrector, and a refuge, He’s a guardrail and a guardian. God fulfills the role of a Father with absolute perfection. Even to those who refuse to call Him Dad.
He is not absentee. He doesn’t abuse by force, or by word. God doesn’t forget, or miss a recital due to work. God is ever present. He is never too busy to sit and listen. God is not so fragile that you can’t rage at Him for fear of breaking down the relationship.
He’s a Father who is there for us in and through sickness or disappointment or hurt or loneliness or shame. He doesn’t step to the side. He’s a Father who is perfectly placed. He doesn’t Father from a distance nor does He helicopter and keep us from experiencing all this life has for us. Good or bad.
When we’re not doing well God takes us on His chest and hides us in the crux of His neck, listening intently as we breath. Feeling the weight of us on His chest.
God feels the weight of being our Father.
And it’s a weight He gladly bears.