My Little Girl

In every life there come those life-changing moments - moments that unexpectedly come, no matter how well-prepared we think we are. Some of those moments are breath-taking and leave us filled with awe and wonder, while some take our breath away and leave us filled with an emptiness that makes life hard to face. No matter which moment it is we are left changed in a profound way. In my life, one of those moments came on September 24th, 1978, in a hospital in Laramie, Wyoming.

One of the things that Anita and I knew from the beginning of our life together was that we wanted to have children. In fact, we began trying to conceive soon after we were married and we waited anxiously each month to see if we were pregnant. Finally, after about 18 months of trying, we discovered that Anita was pregnant and that we were expecting a child in the fall of 1978. Over the next nine months we did all the things that expectant parents do. We attended birth classes, we re-finished furniture and made a nursery and we thought about names. At every doctor's visit they told us everything was normal. At the time, I did not realize that this would be the last time we would use the word 'normal' in our family for the next 25 or 30 years! I even pushed Anita from the front seat of a Suburban, into a ditch while she was 8 months pregnant (in my defense, it seemed normal!) The really amusing part of all this is that we actually thought we were prepared for the life-changing moment we were about to experience.

I can tell you almost everything that happened the night/morning of your birth. However, I can sum it up by telling you that at 11:18 AM, on September 24th, the most beautiful little girl was born and placed in my arms. As I looked down at your face, you pushed your little lips out and your little chin quivered and I knew that from that day forward, I had no heart left because you carried it around with you. I will confess to you that I fell in love with you at that moment and there are only two moments in my life that mean more to me...one was marrying your mother and the other was being saved by the grace of Jesus Christ!

Over the years, I have watched you walk into Reed Elementary carrying your balloon lunch box and my heart; I have dropped you off at Ford Middle School, Allen High School, John Brown University and Indian River Middle School and yes, I have shed a tear or two every time; I have seen you marry a wonderful husband and I still see you in that pure, white dress dancing with me and telling me "This is everything I ever dreamed for my wedding...it's like a fairy tale!" I could go on with all the memories I have of you.

It's hard to believe that the same little girl who wore her hair in pigtails and had her daddy wrapped around her finger is the same little girl who is now a beautiful young lady, godly wife and mother. I still believe you were the most beautiful baby ever born, although my two grandsons were pretty awesome and run a close second! I can never put into words the joy and love you brought to your mother and me...all I can say is that being your dad has been life-changing!

Happy Birthday and I Love You!

Happy Birthday, Buddy!

This weekend marks a special day. Four years ago, I was in Boston and received a phone call from my son-in-law while watching Monday Night Football (turns out he and my daughter were watching as well....in between labor pains!) Tim called to let me know that my first grandson had just come into the world and that his name was Mark Garrett Williamson.

I had always hoped that I would be blessed with grandchildren. I have such amazing memories of my grandparents, especially my Papaw. As the song goes, I thought he walked on water and I wanted to have the kind of impact on my grandchildren that he did on me. However, I had no idea how I would feel when this little guy was born. I met Mark Garrett about three days later, when I traveled to Norfolk. I remember walking into our daughter and son-in-law's home and stood in awe as my daughter came over and placed Mark in my arms. I had often wondered whether I would feel the same way about my grandchildren as I did abolut my own children. That question was answered at that moment. I tell people that grandchildren are somehow different than your own children. I think a big part of that is that as you are a mom or a dad to your own children, you are often so invested in the "busyness" of life that it is very easy to miss some of the wonder and magic of a child growing up. I also think that as we reach the time in our lives when grandchildren come along, we are at the same time beginning to see the headlong rush of our own lives towards completion and for most of us it changes our perspective. In short, I fell in love with this precious little baby and to this day, I can look at the picture Anita took of Mark and me as I held him that first time and I get a lump in my throat!

For the past four years, we have gotten to spend holidays and routine days with Mark; vacationed at the beach; ridden trains to New York City; played in Central Park; ridden a carousel; gone to the great State Fair of Texas (twice!); taken him on his first fishing trip; eaten cookies as big as his head. I thank God for the blessing this little boy has been to me!

We make life very complicated and complex, but in reality there are really only three things that matter - that my wife, children (that means you too, Tim and Meghan!) and grandchildren spend eternity with their Lord and Savior! Beyond that, its all good! I love you Buddy and I know you will have an awesome birthday...maybe even with "black Mickey cupcakes with instruments and sprinkles!"

Papaw

Happy Birthday Bud!

One day last month, when I woke up, it seemed that he was in his crib. Then last week, he was going off to college and then moving to Colorado for his first job. Then only yesterday he brought the girl of his dreams home to meet his mom and me. And now today, he is 29 years old! How can that be?

I have watched him grow and learn. I have laughed and cried with him! I have spent many days with him in the woods and fields of this country just enjoying God's Creation. I have watched his competitive spirit, but also his compassionate heart. I have spent hours on my knees in prayer for him. I have seen him with a tear in his eye as he held his namesake nephew in his arms for the first time. I have seen the love in his face when he looks at his new bride. I would never trade a single moment with him for all the money and treasure on this earth.

It has been said that a child is someone who walks around carrying your heart in their hand. Mark, you have had mine since that September morning in Laramie, twenty-nine years ago! I love you and I hope you have a great birthday!

Love,

Dad

Ghosts

I am haunted by ghosts these days. These are not the ghosts of horror movies, but the ghosts of days past; days that were spent in woods and fields, lakes and streams. I am haunted by these ghosts when the scorched, white-hot days of August give way to the promise of fall and eventually the chill winds of the first blue norther. You see these are the days I have spent in the field as a hunter. I remember every hunt as if it were yesterday. I remember a day in early December, in 1964, when I went on my first deer hunt and sat in a tree stand through a Hill Country ice storm. I remember another hunt that took place over a rainy weekend in South Texas. I remember a hunt with my Papaw, when he made a pot of venison chili that still makes me want to break out my spoon. I could go on but these ghosts probably interest no one but me and maybe some of the good men who were part of those hunts too.

These days spent with my dad, my brother, my son, my father-in-law, my nephews and friends have played a large role in shaping who I am. Being a hunter is not really politically correct these days, but it has been quite some time since I have been accused of being politically correct. The days I have spent in the field enjoying Creation have proven to me that there is indeed a Creator and that we owe Him our worship and adoration. Perhaps the great naturalist and hunter John Muir said it best when he said that each petal of each flower was a window through which to see the Creator. Amen!

So, do not feel sorry for me because I am haunted by ghosts. Just let me enjoy the haunting and remember days that have past and gone, but have left their mark forever!