Happy Birthday My First Born in the Wilderness and Thank You for the Tsunami of Gratitude

How's that for a title?

He looks a lot like his mom with his brown eyes. Actually, he looks especially like her when he smiles because he eyes disappear...ha haa ha! *It should be noted that Carter combed his own hair the day of this pre-school photo shoot.

Today is our first born son Carter Daniel Todd's birthday. He turned five. Even though I haven't posted on our blog regularly in some time, I felt the sudden urge to write down some words if for no other reason than to have them time stamped. The thought inevitably comes that perhaps digitizing and publishing one's thoughts on Google's redundant servers located in secret locations hidden throughout the earth, probably under the seven wonders of the world, is the best way to record your thoughts for posterity. If you write them only on paper, a single house fire could destroy them. And if not, are they going to make it through the millennials who are sure to toss out paper all together so they have more room to lounge and text message?

More seriously, and the whole reason I am online when I should be fast asleep since I'm up in about 6 hours): Carter. Before he was born I didn't realize what a shock the love a child can generate within his parent's heart could cause; I knew people loved their children, but I don't think I could have realized how quickly and profoundly I could fall in love with a person I had known for such a comparatively short time until I had a child. Then again, that's just another powerful argument to add to my essay on why experential is the best kind of knowledge. Experiencing that love changed me in profound ways, and in ways I don't think every parent changes when they cause a baby to be born into this difficult world, or wilderness. Sure, I love my dear wife and until I met her I hadn't really been in love, so I had experienced that new kind of love which I realize is still unfolding and growing, especially as our family grows. Indeed, I loved her in a way I had loved no other, yet now I see the same is true for both my children and almost every other person I hold dear. Love is something that is both profound and profoundly unique depending on the nature of the relationship and the promises that are made either explicitly or implicitly due to the nature of the relationship.

I have found that the love I feel for Carter and Claire has helped me understand my relationship with God in a way that has caused me to begin to realize how deeply God must love me despite my extremely narrow vision and selfishness. I now see that even my feeble efforts to live up to my potential must please Him immensely and when I make mistakes, or simply bad choices, He can send me help but He will not force me along the higher path since He knows I must learn for myself.

Carter is a wonderful little person and my favorite boy on the planet, but that goes without saying. Like other children fortunate enough to be brought up in a loving environment with many opportunities to interact with others and take positive risks, Carter is precocious yet absolutely innocent, tenaciously curious and athletic and despite his rapid growth physically and psychologically, still completely willing to "nuggle" on the couch at nearly any time of day, although early morning is preferred.

Finally, Carter makes me want to be a better person. As I walked toward the Disneyland hotel with my ever-wise father-in-law the other night, the air was suddenly pierced by cries, innocent and high-pitched. We looked up toward the noise, as did a few passersby, to behold a small huddled mass on a balcony above and to the right of the hotel entrance. It then became clear that it was my little family who beckoned us from the fifth floor. They held balloons and called out, "Daddy, Daaadddy!" I could see Sarah, her pregnant figure silhouetted against the yellow light of the room standing in the center, and two little figures huddled near her. Their balloons undulated in the night air and the light from the room that filtered through their colors formed a miniature rainbow above their heads.

In that moment I was suddenly and violently struck by how wonderful my life is: I have a body and it works, I have a beautiful wife who loves me and chooses happiness in the midst of difficulty, I have two healthy babies and another on the way, bombs don't go off where I live and I generally feel safe wherever I go, we can take ourselves to see world class physicians when necessary, we have plentiful friends who are sincere and loving, we have jobs which provide us shelter and transportation along with the ability to choose the foods and activities we partake in and a family support network who love me and my wife and our babies... of course the mind moves a lot faster than words can, so suffice to say I felt a tsunami of gratitude.

Simultaneously, however, I felt this pang of responsibility and duty. I felt that slight sting in my eyes indicating the potential release of tears and although none were shed, I knew I had just received a message from a divine source, perhaps from some place deep in the cosmos or perhaps from the deepest reaches of my innermost being, that I must make sure to always keep those precious beings, my wife and my babies, my number one priority for both time and eternity.

Carter, I love you buddy!