It's been a little while since I have been able to write to you. You see, your mom and I have been working hard to get prepared for you. That includes working during our spring break to put away some money so that when you come, the focus can be entirely on you. Don't think that I haven't been thinking about you. In fact, I have been itching to get a chance to write to you.
So much has happened in the past week. I showed some people I was driving around the video of you on my phone. They were mesmerized. I guess in England that technology is rare. So, I felt lucky to have gotten to see you, before you are born. I think you are lucky too. That may seem strange to some others who are reading this, but I know you understand. There are so many people who know about you, who are praying for you, who love you already -- and you're not even born yet! So many people have no one to love them, no one to care about them. Not you. You have hundreds, maybe thousands of people who do. In fact, this past Saturday at noon, you probably felt a burst of love coming from all around the world. I'm sure you felt it. That's because we all stopped what we were doing, and we prayed for you. We prayed for the strength to love you as fully as we can for as long as we can. We prayed for the chance to see your face and to hear your cry. And we even prayed for a miracle -- for you to be whole. We thanked science for allowing us to prepare for you, and yet we prayed for the science to be wrong. It was palpable.
I have also been thinking a lot during this Easter season about the parallels between what happened to Jesus and what we are dealing with. I imagine how Mary must have felt to watch the horror that her Son was dealing with. In a small way I can empathize in a way I never could before. I imagine how helpless she felt as she watched her Son die. Again, I am dealing with that same helplessness. But then I think about Easter Sunday, when her Son defeated death. I imagine what it would feel like to see you defeat death, and I am overwhelmed. My emotions take over, and I cry. I cry like I never have before. I am broken all over again. I ask God through my tears to wrap you in his arms and to take care of my baby girl like his own. I pray for you to be born whole, but I pray even more that if I cannot raise you, that God does -- that he raises you up in gentle hands to be with our family and friends who are waiting for you in heaven.
In asking this, I am fully inside the fire. I feel like I never have before, or ever will again. I hope I can withstand the flames, the agony, the brokenness and come out galvanized -- better, stronger. You are the catalyst -- "nobody, not even the rain has such small hands." You are my Easter Lily, and I love you more each day.
Daddy-
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