Friday, June 8, 2007

The Soles Of My Shoes Don't Get Dirty

Note: This blog was originally posted on December 7, 2006...but somehow I lost all of my blogs and am having to re-post them. July 17th, 2006 is a day I will never forget. It's the day I stopped walking on solid ground. It didn't start off so spectacular. For all intents and purposes it had the makings of a typical day. I got up at 6:45am, went to work, sat through a gajillion meetings, shuffled through emails and paperwork and came home. Nothing out of the ordinary. Until I walked into the house. I entered through the garage as usual. As soon as I opened the door, I noticed my wife standing in the kitchen smiling. On the kitchen table was a small gold gift box. "Open it." she said, grinning from ear to ear. "But my birthday isn't until tomorrow." "Just open it!"I sat in the chair at the dining table and grabbed the small box in my hand. What's inside? Why is Jen being so secretive. It's not like her. "Isn't it bad luck to open my birthday presents befo..." "Open it! She clinched jer jaw with the command, but she was still unable to hide her toothy grin. I lifted the lid of the tiny gold box. I was immediately confused by what I saw inside. It was a pocket watch, with the words "World's Greatest Dad" engraved on the outside. I must be a little slow because all I could think was "Is this her dad's old watch? Why would Jen's dad give me this watch? Is this something he's 'passing down to me' since he never had a son? What could this mean? I lifted the watch out of the box and underneath it was a pair of a blue baby socks...and a pair of pink ones. "You're going to be a daddy." My wife said, with tears welling up in her eyes.You have no idea how long I've waited to hear those words. My wife and I have been married for 12 years and it just hadn't happened for us. To be honest, I had given up on the hope of ever having a little baby in the house. But on July 17th, 2006, God breated new hope into our home. As tears poured out of my eyes uncontrollably, I hugged my wife. Then asked the question every man must ask at that moment: "Are you sure?" (How could such joy be based on reality?) "Yes. I took two tests just to make sure." She showed me the two pregnancy test sticks. Both positive. "Take it again!" I insisted. Which she did...all three positive! We danced in the kitchen...and the living room...and then stopped to pray. We thanked God for the blessing and prayed for a healthy baby that we could commit to Him. My father died when I was seven. I have only a couple of memories of him. Yet, I think I've always feared that I could never be half the man he was. Half the father he was. You see, my mother abandoned me and my siblings when I was five. My father spent the last two years of his life raising five children. And he was sick. He was dying. What a father. Could I be that kind of father to my child? Since July, my wife's little belly has grown. Occasionally, you can see a little nudge on the surface of her tummy...from the inside. Amazing. Every night, I place my head near her belly and listen to him moving around in there. Oh yes, it's a boy! We found out 20 weeks into the pregnancy. His name will be Morgan Douglas Glenn. Douglas was my father's name. After I listen for awhile, I talk to my son. I love the way he reacts to my voice. I wish I could hold him now. But, as God loves to do with me, I'm learning one more lesson in patience. Little Morgan needs that tiem in his mother's womb. So I must learn to wait. Ever since that hot July day, I have not walked on ground. My shoes have not touched the earth. I just hover. Most of the time I'm about six inches above the floor. Yeah, the soles of my shoes do not get dirty. I don't know if every man wants to be a father as much as I do. I don't know if every father-to-be yearns to hold his child like I do. I only know that I can't wait to hear that baby's hold him in my hear him call me "daddy" for the first play with him on the floor and teach him all the things that little boys need to know. I can't wait to have him hold my hand as we cross the street or in the mall...whereever. And you can bet that, with every step, my feet will never touch the ground. For more information on Tim Glenn, go to tim glenn

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