I saw the face of God yesterday. And I cried like a baby for a full thirty minutes.

My precious SD, throughout the last 15 years I’ve sat through countless ballet and dance recitals, choir performances, award shows, graduations, and a plethora of other events you’ve been a part of. Yesterday, as I sat watching your high school Christmas Show, the first fifteen years of your life flashed before me. Dancing you to sleep late at night as an infant. Your first words. Your first steps. Losing your first tooth. Your first day of kindergarten. Countless hours spent helping you learn how to ride a bike, usually ending with us both frustrated. The night you came home and without any prompting picked that bike up and rode circles around our cul-de-sac on your own for the first time like you’d known how all along. The day we finalized your
adoption into our family. Anxiously waiting 6 hours in a hospital waiting room during your open heart surgery. Every doctor visit since. All of it, the good and the not-so-good, flooded my mind in those thirty minutes.

Like I was Ebenezer Scrooge taking a walk through Christmas’ past, present the and future, images of your future intermingled with memories from past, all in that moment. For the first time in fifteen years, I saw a glimpse of what your life holds in the next fifteen. And I could no longer contain the bittersweet joy in recognizing that my daughter is becoming a young woman. The same daughter who still needs help tying her shoes opened my eyes to the life of independence that is possible for you as an adult. You and your friends gave me hope yesterday.

On that stage this weekend, I didn’t see your disability; I saw your ability. I didn’t see what holds you back; I saw what keeps you going. I saw more genuine, authentic Christlike character traits in you and your friends yesterday than I see walking through the doors of church on Sunday morning. I simply have no words to express what I experienced in being a part of your world outside our home…watching you in your environment. Watching how you interact with your friends gave me hope. Hope for what your life will be after your mom and I have gone to be with God. A hope that you will be able to continue on without us. For fifteen years, I’ve not been able to see you as thriving without us. Yesterday, I saw a glimpse of who you will be as an adult, and I’m proud. Proud to know you. Proud to love you. Proud of who you are. Proud of you will become. Proud to have been chosen by God to be your daddy! Keep on being the beautiful girl you’ve always been, ladybug! I love you so stinkin’ much it hurts. I love you to tears and back.

Love,

Daddy

P.S. Happy 15th birthday, princess!

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