Clapping at Eight Months

            My daughter is almost 9 months old. She was born July 9, 2010. We named her Frankie Jane, which means Freedom/Free Man and Jehovah has been Gracious/God is Gracious. She is a tremendous joy for us.

     No one could have described what it is like to be a parent. Before Frankie was born we had been trying for three years.

We had a miscarriage in August of 2009. Walrus, that is what I had named the baby, was due March 6, 2010. That is the same day of my Grandpa Maddox’s birthday (He passed away when I was three). A miscarriage is another experience that could not have been described or explained to me. A miscarriage is something that I would not wish on my worst enemy. Especially since we are to love our enemies according to Jesus in the books of Matthew and Luke.

Being a dad of a little girl is indescribably the best experience of my life. Don’t get me wrong; I would have had a blast with a boy. But there is something special about a little girl looking at you, as you get wrapped tighter and tighter around her little finger.

One of the best experiences, so far, came at eight months. Around eight months is when Frankie started clapping. You should know that we live in a pretty mild and quiet house. We don’t yell, scream, or do things too loudly. I also can’t necessarily think of any time that I would clap at the house. I’m sure Frankie has seen people clap, but seeing her clap and the joy she expresses is one of the most surreal experiences that I never attempted to teach her.

The best is when I come home and she is sitting in her high chair because it’s dinnertime. The excitement and happiness when I walk through the door could launch me to the moon. I can’t remember a time that I’ve walked into a room and people have clapped just because I entered their presence. But that little girl lights up like a firecracker on a Chinese New Year.

Deep down I always wonder what she is so excited about, and how I can have that same happiness. To be able to find joy in the smallest thing is something that I wish I were able to hold onto, instead of the jaded lifestyle I became.

Have you ever met those people who just love life? I know I have. Before I used to think something was wrong with them. Now I realize that I was jealous of them. But to me happiness and life are what we make of them. I don’t care what has or has not happened.

The time that I remember most is when I was in the closet taking off my shoes and getting comfortable after work. She was sitting on the bed watching me and started clapping because I looked at her. At that point, and many times before, is when I decided all things would be provided for the rest of her life.  College, car, you name it kid.

Love,

Your Dad