Blessing #3: Morgan

At first, I thought I'd make blessing #3 be "being a daddy" but it goes deeper than that. Each of my boys are a blessing in and of themselves. So I will list them separately. I will never forget the day we found out that Morgan was going to be part of our lives. I had wanted to be a daddy for so long. And, after years of praying, God finally said, "Ok." But, as God often does with His blessings, He took it an extra step. Just being a daddy wasn't enough. He made me the daddy of the most amazing little boy! Jen and I have often joked that we don't remember what life was like before we had kids. And we're okay with that. The joy, the absolute pure joy that comes with parenthood is beyond words. There are days that I wish I could freeze time and keep him right where he is. But other days, I absolutely enjoy watching who he is becoming. Oddly enough, one of my favorite pictures of Morgan is before he was even born. I swear, in this ultrasound, it looks like he's singing into a microphone! Even today, music is such a big part of his life. Oh, how I love to listen to his sweet little voice as he sings at the top of his lungs. He makes up his own songs. He bangs on his guitar or his drum set. Music is such a big part of his life--even his bedtime routine requires singing. I love that! (And yes, I'll admit, I do love that he knows the words to daddy's songs and wants to hear them over and over again.) I call him "beautiful boy" and yes, it's because he's got this beautiful little face with big, bright, blue eyes and a smile that will melt your heart. But it's also because of the person he's becoming. He's such a sweet boy. He is giving, caring, nurturing--and such an encourager. I don't want to think of what my life would be like without the wrestling matches on the living room floor, the cuddles on the couch, the sing-a-longs and the hugs and kisses. The first time I heard him say "daddy" my heart melted...and it still does, every single time. I love being Morgan's daddy. I really do. If it's all my life was designed for, it has been more than fulfilling. I love you beautiful boy. How about you? Have you taken time lately to really count your blessings? Try it! You may realize just how blessed you really are!

Faded Fish

Last weekend, my 3-year old son and I had some father/son bonding time as we washed the cars together. First, we washed Jen's car. Morgan had a blast! He was scrubbing with the soapy rag, just grinning from ear to ear. Then, daddy brought out the water hose. His face lit up. His eyes widened. Oh my! "Daddy! Can I do it?" "Yes, beautiful boy. Here you go!" He was spraying water everywhere! Awesome. Just awesome. For some reason he was obsessed with the headlights on momma's car. He would run around and spray the rest of the car but he kept coming back to the headlights. They were sparkly clean by the time we were done, looking brand new! Then, we moved onto daddy's Jeep. Morgan LOVES daddy's Jeep. It's nothing too fancy. It's 11 years old, been around the block a time or two (nearly 100K miles.) I just bought it a few months ago and this is the first time that I really spent time cleaning it. It wasn't until we were finished when I noticed something on the front driver's side panel. A barely noticeable fade from one of those fish symbols. Someone had put it on the Jeep in the past, but it was long gone. I thought about that a lot over the past week. I wonder if my spiritual walk isn't like that sometimes. I wonder if the only obvious sign to others that I'm a Christian has become faded..barely noticeable. Honestly, I feel that way often. I feel like I sometimes take steps that are so far away from what I believe. Perhaps not intentionally. But I'll get preoccupied, distracted and the next thing I know, I've ventured off the path. A faded shadow of what I want to be. I am trying my best not to be a faded fish in this world. It's not always easy. And I won't make any promises. But just in case you're wondering, yes I love Jesus! And I believe in Him with all my heart, soul, mind and strength. I believe He was God incarnate. I believe He was crucified, dead and buried. And I believe He rose from the dead to save us all from eternal hell...if we'll only believe. And, I believe He's like my 3-year old son with a water hose. When God needed a salvation plan, Jesus said, "Daddy, can I do it?" I believe His salvation message is plenty for all, but for some reason He's intent on focusing on the individual. He wants a relationship. He wants to make sure that--like the headlights on momma's car--I am shiny, clean and looking new.

Baby Grayson is here!

Okay, okay...perhaps it was a bit presumptuous of me to assume I knew when our baby boy was going to get here. On March 24th, I wrote a post on this blog titled, "Two Weeks." Well...SIX DAYS LATER, Grayson arrived! I'm perfectly fine with being wrong about this one. I was so anxious to hold our little guy. Both he and mommy are healthy and doing great...it's a true blessing! Grayson Troy Glenn arrived at 9:18am on March 30th, 2009. He weighed 7 pounds, 7.3 ounces and was 19 inches long. If you'd like to see more photos, check out my facebook page. I've just uploaded an album of photos there. God bless! And thank you to all who were praying for a safe and healthy delivery! tim

Fan

This past weekend I sang on the worship team at my home church, Rocky Mountain Calvary. It was such a nice release. I can honestly say that I desperately needed it.

Just before one of the services, the entire worship team was backstage with pastor Eric, when the conversation turned to football. Eric said, "I could take it or leave it. I don't really need to watch the games, just hear the scores once they're over."

WHAT!!??? My jaw dropped. My eyes bulged. My heart raced. What sort of human is this? What sort of being doesn't live vicariously through his/her football team? I'm sorry. This does not compute.

Needless to say, I'm a fan. As in short for fanatic. As in my life is seriously affected by how well my team does. I can get physically ill if my team is playing poorly--I kid you not. I'm a diehard Dallas Cowboys fan, so you can pretty much guess that I've been physically ill for the past 11 years--at least during football season. This year, the team looks good. (But it's still early in the season, and as the Patriots learned, anything can happen.)

That got me to thinking though. I wonder why? Why are there so many fans, like myself, who take the game so seriously? At the risk of being completely transparent, wouldn't it be nice if I was as passionate about my job as I am about my football team? Or what if I was as passionate about my religion as I am about football? Some fans I know are more passionate about their team than their own family. Though my wife may say I get there sometimes myself, I'm not quite that bad.

I don't think.

Crud.

I may be.

I guess, in a way, it's sad what we choose to be passionate about. When I'm gone, if someone ever asks "What was Tim passionate about?" I don't want the only answer to be, "The Dallas Cowboys." I want people to know I'm also passionate about my family, being a dad...I'm passionate about making honest music that people can relate to. I'm passionate about releasing children from poverty. I'm passionate about finding meaning in this life. And I want to be known for being a passionate follower of Christ. I've still got work to do in those areas, but I want my passion to grow. You could say I'm passionate about being passionate! Ha!

What are you passionate about?

"Daddy"

It's the word I've waited years to hear. The word I thought I'd never hear. But last week, my little boy, Morgan, called me "daddy" for the first time. And my heart melted.

I tried, to no avail, to get "daddy" to be his first word, but "mommy" came out weeks sooner. Still, nothing can steal the sweetness of seeing his face light up and his little voice utter the word I have longed to hear for so long.

"Daddy." It's what I called my father so many years ago. A man I never really got a chance to know. He passed away at the age of 30. I was only 7. Still, I revere the man. He was raising five kids, with the help of his mother, after his wife (my mother) left us--never to be heard from again. What a man. What a father. I hope I can be half the daddy he was to me and my siblings. I wonder if he rejoiced at hearing me calling him "daddy" for the first time like I did with my son. I wonder if it broke his heart like mine is broken this week. Broken with absolute adoration and love for my son.

"Daddy."

Has a nice ring to it. And I couldn't be more proud.

I'll try to get it on video and share it with you here sometime in the near future.

P.S. On Friday, Morgan will turn 1! I'll have a few things to write about that, on Friday.