When Clint, my first son, was born I did what many parents do; I compared him to other babies. In some areas I wanted him to be the same and in other areas I was hoping to find he was better than any average baby. I wanted my child to be special. Other babies had ten fingers and ten toes and I was relieved to find that he did not have more or less than this standard. On the other hand, other babies were ugly and I wanted mine to be cute. I was disappointed to find that he was just as ugly as everyone else’s baby. Of course at the time I was careful to keep this assessment to myself.
As time went on, my wife and I learned what all the norms were by reading and asking others with any baby experience lots of questions. We would then use our new knowledge to assess just how special he was. We compared him to others and the norms, looking for things we could brag about. Of course, we were not methodical, it just came naturally, and it is just what parents do. Then Philip was born, he was cuter than Clint was. That should have been my first clue that something was wrong. Then his blood coagulated before the nurse could get it into the machine for testing. She said that wasn’t normal. I had just received a second clue but it was early in the morning and my wife and I were both in need of rest. We did not rest long before they had to fly him to another hospital with a pediatric intensive care unit. Over the next couple of days he stabilized and we held out hope that he would be normal in the near future; after all, he had ten fingers and ten toes.
Days went by before anyone told us that Philip had Downs Syndrome. Comparing him to the norms was not fun anymore, but out of habit I did from time to time. And when I did, my vision would blur and I would have to wipe some water from my eyes. One time that I can remember like it was last week was an outing at McDonalds when he was two. There were other two year olds running around and there was Philip still trying to figure out how to walk. I found myself remembering all the other things a normal two year old could do that Philip could not. I found myself grieving because he couldn’t talk or walk and we didn’t have a clue when he would.
When we lost a child in a miscarriage, we grieved and it was hard all at once and the pain lessened with time. Philip was not the child that I dreamed about; I grieved over time, little by little as I realized how different things were going to be. Over time, I learned that I didn’t have to play the comparison game. Instead I could explore who he is, what he can do and how he can contribute to our family life. This lesson also helped when we first brought Noel and Reyna into our home through the county foster /adopt program. They looked so normal when we first meet them, but the scars were deep and affected them deeply. I strive not to compare them to others or the norms. I build on their strengths and give them exercise and encouragement where they are weak.
I have tried to make the title of this article a motto for myself. When It comes to the people I love I want to make ‘no comparison.’ They are unique and I want to view them as unique.
Allen: The birth of time, the planting of life and the plan for the future flower from God’s voice in these verses. I see God here as the great planner, organizer of the universe. First he creates the vegetation to feed all that will follow and makes sure they can propagate with seed. He follows with the creatures of water, earth and air creating a multitude of kinds all able to reproduce by multiplication to fill the earth. All these acts lay the foundation for the future. Now that time has been birthed with the first morning and evening Time can grow as life does. For without the living, what meaning has time?
Ann: God is still working on the third day. God speaks and it happens. His creation obeys—land produces vegetation. Plants bear according to their kinds. God created with variety and He created with order.
Even though time came to being earlier, the markers of the seasons, days, and years did not come until the 4th day. Sun, moon and stars. Humans have always found fascination in these rulers of day and night. Many people have worshipped the great lights, but we should see their Maker and praise Him. What an intricate system God set into place with the moon and the tides, the great sun and the warmth and light it brings. Once again God knew just what order to set everything in.
I love “let the waters teem with living creatures” In Psalms 104:25 the same term “teem” is used. It reads, “the sea, vast and spacious, teeming with creatures beyond number, living things both large and small.”
What a wonderful picture: sea creatures dancing in the sparkling waters, weaving around the many colored sea weeds and plants, praising their Creator for their first day of life.
God filled the skies also. Birds flew across the expanse. Just as vegetation would keep increasing, so God blessed the sea creature and birds to multiply as well. The fifth day ends.
Now God asks the land to produce living creatures, once again according to their kind. He gives three categories: wild animals, livestock and creatures that move along the ground. I have to admit that when I imagine Creation, I have the picture in my head that comes from the Narnia books. “The Magician’s Nephew” gives such a fabulous picture. It talks about the grassy land bubbling like a pot, swelling into lumps and then the creatures coming out of the earth. I don’t know how it happened in the beginning, but I’d imagine that CS Lewis was thinking of the Genesis story when he wrote his description.
Allen: In the beginning says so much and excites the imagination. In the beginning I see God as the master artist whom we want to emulate. But we cannot for in our art we dip our brush into colors that exist. We mix, blend and turn a canvas into an expression of ourselves. God on the other hand separates the light from the darkness and divides the elements into water, air and earth. God in his artistry dips his brush into the void and pulls out the colors for us to enjoy. And on the canvas of his creation he paints the bold strokes of time that is the framework to his masterpiece
Ann: In the beginning…the start of a new story—the first once upon a time. But all our stories pale next to the Creator’s.
What do you see as you imagine a formless empty earth full of darkness? I think the Creator’s heart thrilled as He imagined what He would do next. We would be powerless with nothing to work with, But He was not.
I can’t help but wonder why the Spirit of God was hovering over the waters. And why were there already waters? I believe there are some things we will never fully understand or have answers for in this life.
Jesus is the light of the world…the Christian is often referred to as a light in the darkness. It is interesting then that God created light first and separated it from the darkness. The light and darkness were called day and night—-the first day. We are dealing with beginnings again. Time was created for man. God had no need for time but we as finite creatures seem to need something more tangible. Everything in our world centers around this time that God made for us. Sometimes we forget that though He created it for us, He has never been bound by it or even conceives of it in the way that we do. When we see Him face to face in eternity our “time” will no longer be needed.
In this second day, God separates the waters and creates atmosphere or sky. This is the first time that I read the words, “and it was so.” God said something and it happened. Maybe this could be a reminder that when God speaks we need to listen and obey right away.
Land is brought into being and we now see the purpose for the waters beneath—our vast oceans. God always has a plan. He doesn’t just start something without knowing where it is going. We can remember that when we think of the plan He has for our lives knowing just as He had a reason behind His order of creation, He has a reason for each thing He brings to us.
Names, like words can take on connotative meaning. Dad, daddy and father are all names we apply to one or more men in our lives. Each implies to some extent both a job or position and a relationship. For me, each of these applied to only one man and then in a different way to my God. When I think of the man in my life who wears these names, the name father brings feelings of authority. Father is the one who was responsible for me and with that responsibility he used many tools to teach, train and discipline me. Daddy, on the other hand, brings on the feelings of a small boy who was awed by the amazing magician and ventriloquist who would play with us after dinner. Daddy took us camping and taught us how to fish. Daddy was wonderful and I never wanted father to show up.
I began to think of my father as dad as I matured, that name combined elements of both daddy and father in my mind. I was no longer awed by Dad but I did respect him most of the time because I was old enough to understand how hard it could be to be responsible. Dad taught me to drive and gave me advice on how to deal with difficult people. Dad was ever more concerned about the future and because of that I felt more pressure to grow up. Fishing with Dad wasn’t near as much fun as it had been with Daddy because now we pretty much went our separate ways and only got together to tell our fish stories around the campfire.
When we took Reyna and Noel into our home they already had two other men that they called daddy. There was Daddy Dave, their former foster father whom they had lived with for two years and there was Daddy Mike, their biological father. Within a few days I became just another daddy. My wife and I were surprised at how quickly they began calling us mommy and daddy, but once we realized what the name meant to them we were saddened. For them calling me daddy was not much different than calling their new teachers teacher, daddy was just my job.
We felt that their definition of mommy and daddy was just as valid as ours because it came from their experience. Rather than try to change the meaning that they attached to the names, we set out to strengthen the definitions. Since Dave and Mike no longer took care of them, we never referred to them as Daddy Dave or Daddy Mike. We did not try to discourage them from using daddy when referring to Dave and Mike, we just set the example. After awhile they stopped talking about Dave as Daddy Dave and soon after we adopted them they stopped talking about Mike as Daddy Mike. At one point after the adoption as Reyna was wrestling with the change she asked if Mike was still her daddy, I gently replied that he would always be her father, nothing could change that, but because of his problems, he couldn’t be her daddy anymore. Your daddy, I said, is the one who takes care of you and protects you. I am their daddy now, their only daddy, even if sometimes I have to be the mean daddy.
I would rather be their daddy than just their father.
My first taste of fatherhood was overwhelming. The excitement and fear that I felt in the delivery room was enough to make a fool of me. Somehow my wife and I had convinced ourselves that we were having a girl, but there was no thought of that when I heard the words “It’s a boy.” In that moment I simply felt a white hot burst of joy. I have never felt anything so intensely before or since. My father and I also connected in that moment. We have never been close, except in that one moment. In that moment, we agreed, we felt the same pride and joy and we embraced with the biggest grins plastered to our faces. Someone caught that embrace on film and I am so grateful for that. More than twenty years have passed since that time. Many more joys and sorrows, arguments and wounds have been engraved into my soul since then. Finding that picture in a box recently allowed me to connect with that joy once again. I was able to remember more fully all the dreams for my son that surged through me. I had dreams of a great relationship built on mutual respect. I just knew that I could be a great father and so he would love and admire me.
Now, well he does love me and I am told that there are some things he admires about me just as there are things that I admire about him. I still have dreams for him but mostly I just pray. I pray that he will pull the weeds from his dreams. Pray that he will not turn his back on his family. Pray that he will use his skills to do good in this world. I pray fervently that the world won’t drag him into the sewers of selfish pleasures. I hope that someday he will want to experience the joys of being a daddy.
Being a daddy has many moments of joy. During some seasons you may need to look for them or spend some time creating a moment to make your child smile. And, it is these joys that are the treasure that are a comforting reminder during the storms of life.
I get called many things, rarely am I called by the name my momma and daddy gave me. The three most popular names are daddy, mean daddy and dear. My kids don’t call me dear and between the two remaining names, ‘mean daddy’ means the most to me. Why? Because, as I tell my kids, that means that I am doing my job. They say it in an affectionate way – most of the time – so I know they are getting enough love. I am not their freind, I am their protector and trainer, most of the time, they need protecting from themselves so, I have to be the mean daddy. It’s a tough job but they deserve the effort. They bring so much joy and laughter into my life.