The baby's room is just about finished now. The paint has been pristinely brushed on the walls, the border aligned perfectly along the baseboards, the dresser stained and polyurethaned and polyurethaned and polyurethaned again. Diapers are stacked, the changing pad is waiting and the smell of joy and baby powder is in the air. You can cut the anticipation with a knife! Even our sweet beagle, Ralph, has perused the room finding the perfect place to sleep while he guards the door and window from unwanted intruders into our child's world.
It's a crazy time. Every minute I am home not doing something baby related seems wasted, every item displaying the least bit of imperfection is frustrating and carries more feelings of failure than I ever imagined possible.
If it were up to Rochelle and me, our daughter would live in a perfect world. She would have a perfect childhood; wonderful and magical. She would never be harmed. She would have no scars; physical or emotional. She would somehow manage to overcome the immense faults of her parents (at least the immense faults of her dad ) that are bound to be passed on. We want her to have a perfect world! That's why we've worked so hard on the part of her world we might be able to manage; her room.
We have no illusions. We know that our faults will hurt her. All parents somehow wound their children. Like extended family passing photos at a holiday gathering, children cannot be handled with love without being fingerprinted by their handlers.
That's why Jesus teaches us to forgive! So that as we look back at the photo album of our lives, we can remember the incredible instances God has given us and love the people whose prints have smudged the pictures.
It's in those moments when life on earth is a snapshot of life in Heaven. Now that's a perfect world.
Monday, October 27, 2003
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