I'm out in Utah right now, winding down my trip to meet my son Adam's first child. Here is the picture of Adam and his beautiful wife Brittany, and that cherubic baby is their son, Chase Alexander.
Meeting Chase has allowed me once again to experience one of life's most sublime moments--that of watching one of my own children as they become a parent.
The first moments of parenthood provide a mix of emotions for a new father--inexpressible joy, relief that mother and baby are well, worry if they are not, and ultimately, the weight of being responsible for a precious, completely vulnerable, child.
As parents, we get a few defining "grading" moments--instances where we are blessed to see how well the baton has been passed to a new generation. We teach, err, model, fumble along, and hope that somewhere in the mix our children are developing a desire to build their own families, and acquiring the tools to pull off that increasingly challenging role. And then the moment comes when a woman steps into the darkness and pulls a new spirit through the veil to mortality, while her husband watches in awe at the agony and ecstasy the birthing miracle requires. In that ethereal moment humanity is extended a reprieve from the darkness nipping at its heels. In that moment goodness and hope prevail as another man and woman put self-interest aside and pledge everything they are and have to the protection of another. I was privileged once again to witness that miracle this week.
So blogs and Face book pages, and even books took a back seat to simply observing the transformation of two twenty-somethings into first-time parents. It was remarkable, as it always is.
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