wave tossing – short thoughts on a year

I have a picture, a scene, from this summer that keeps coming to my mind on this cold winter day. It was August, hot and sunny, and we were at the beach at Young St. Park. It was the afternoon and a good breeze was blowing, forming perfect two foot waves on Lake Charlevoix.

Monica and Kelly were in up to their knees. I was with them. They shout, “Papi, toss me, toss me!” And I did, timing the the toss so that they landed, tilted, into the waves. They absolutely loved it, screaming with delight at every toss.

I remember thinking, it doesn’t get much better than this.

But here’s the thing, it does. It gets better when our family spontaneously erupts into dancing to Cake’s Short Skirt/Long Jacket (granted, not the most wholesome song). It gets better when we finally learn to say the number 13. It gets better when we fall apart into giggle fits over Magdalena chasing her tail and Kenzie wigging out over peanut butter on her face. It gets better when we learn to sing Jesus Loves Me (always out of key).

For me, when the alternative was not having them, it always gets better*.

I don’t want to paint a picture of all rainbows and lollipops. Being a father is definitely the hardest thing I’ve ever done. There are trenches that need trudging (and I’m keeping my fingers crossed for the teenage years).

Still, at the one year point, I am slightly stunned at how much fun this is, how love can grow in capacity, how fast a year goes, and how blessed we are.

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* For those waiting adoptive parents who read our blog, please know that Renee and I offer prayers for you. The waiting is a particular, acute torture. Have hope.