Life is a great journey, but I sometimes fear I should be farther along the road than I am. I read my daughter's words and have to admit I swell with pride at seeing her progression as an artist. But more than that I am grateful for her astonishing maturity and beautiful spirit. I think of myself at that age and the contrast is shameful. We share the same introspection and pick-it-apart view of the world, but at 24 years old, I had so much less depth. She is grounded in her faith, in her belief system and in what she wants. I was a Christian who didn't get it, one who never opened her Bible and was thus existing in prolonged infancy. Paul addressed me as one tossed back and forth by the waves, and blown here and there by whatever came along. I look at this child of mine and see so much more. I thank God that I had partially figured things out before she came along; at least enough so that I may have had at least a small part - through my constant prayers if nothing else - in her becoming a seeker of Truth. I read her words - her poems - her prose - and I admit my envy. I used to write poetry, I used to dream of my words carrying that kind of weight, of being that profound. Now I write a blog that no one reads and compose great Christmas letters. The dreams are still there, but lack the ambition and the energy to propel them into reality. I have let life suck that zeal out of me like a slowly leaking tire and I find myself too flat to carry the load. I used to be the driven person that I see in my daughter now. And that is partly why I am her biggest cheerleader. I see her eyeing her dreams with purpose and I want to scream, "Go for it my beautiful, talented daughter!" When I read her words about castles in the sky and building stairways to them I am brought to tears by the poignancy. My staircase got sidetracked by my love of a boy who ended up betraying me, by self-preservation and by focus on the wrong things. She is too smart to seek her essence in the wrong places and so I am thankful that perhaps her DNA holds some of the good parts of me and escaped those parts that tend to seek short-lived gratification in destructive ways. I see the hand of God on this child of mine and my heart soars. Odd as it seems, she is living the life I was supposed to have, and that lovingly affirms my belief that the One who created us both is indeed the Master of second chances. The amazing grace that covers us is as comforting now as the childhood blanket - her "bah" - that my daughter wouldn't leave home without. She has exchanged that emblem of childhood security for the true Comforter. And knowing she is covered still is my greatest joy.
