Dappled Time

It's a strange thing to be waiting, anticipating the arrival of someone you never met, but with whom you plan to build a lifelong relationship.  We know nearly nothing about you -- boy or girl? fair or dark? small or tall? shy or chatty? bookish or athletic or neither or both...and yet we expect to recognize you. 
Frankly, we expect to love you; we already do.
Expressly for this purpose we are pacing gritty city streets on a hot summer today, parceling out our twelve cash dollars for a fresh mint iced tea here and a raspberry filled French twist there.  We browse little boutiques when we need a restroom, and linger in coffee shops to charge our phones.  It's not too much of a holiday, because we know your parents are not having the most relaxing afternoon.
And there it is:  your parents.  I keep getting stuck on that benign title that will completely encompass everything you know about these two people who begat you.  See, I have been acquainted with them in the pre-you days.  But my knowledge is limited by my own relationship with each, and you will see them differently than I do right now.
The woman laboring to bring you into the world has been nurturing others much of her life.  Her friendship is fierce and deep and is not dissuaded by ugliness or brokenness.  Laughter spills easily and her hand slips readily into the hand of whoever is standing nearby.  She is so vulnerable with her ready offer of love, and so brave.
Very few people have been acquainted with the loss and sadness she has, and yet she remains open.  Her trust in the goodness of God has persisted through bewilderingly painful times and she gives reflected strength to those who are close to her. 
She loves your daddy, your papa, your father.  That guy.
She thinks he is wonderful, insightful and kind.  And her days are a little bit emptier when they are not together.

He endeavors after all the things she believes him to be.  He is steadfast and true; his faith is deep.  Like his own father, he is independent in spirit and humble in nature.  Like many firstborn, he carries others along.  He follows rules even when he wishes he felt free to break them a bit more, and he is always challenging himself, with new goals, new skills, new experiences. 
With your mama he has learned to pause a little, soak it in, be at home. For that peace she brings, and the beauty she carries about her (and innumerable other things) he loves her. 

That's who I know them to be, now, in this space before knowing you changes them. 
They will envelop you in music and good food, healthy habits, classic books and a context in which community is valued.  
I can't even guess at what you'll see.
I hope you will love them as two splendid, flawed people who daily give their lives for you.
Because you have already changed them, sight unseen.

Psalm 139:13-16

In Context

In my early married days I tried to be a model church newlywed by volunteering with the monthly girls club. Some women led badges in physical fitness, campcraft, or nutrition.  I caught linoleum on fire with a sewing machine, veered the Christmas cookie offering into a realm dubbed "chocolate poops", and gained a certain measure of fame for my habit of stomping, clapping and singing whenever I had to venture into the pantry.  The last was adopted after I confronted a rodent, at eyelevel, during my brief period of blissful ignorance.  I think leaders and members alike preferred the barely suppressed hysteria evinced by my flappy/clappy hands to the uncontrolled shrieking of that face-to-face encounter.

As with all responsible outreach endeavors, there was a theme verse to begin every meeting.  It had even been thoughtfully wrought into song version for those not apt at memorization.
"Girls, what does the Lord require of you?"
"To do justice.  To love mercy.  And to walk humbly with our God."
And then, with less confidence and fewer voices,
"Micah 6:8."

This is an excellent paradigm for how to live.  It is succinct, yet all-encompassing.  It is simple, yet rife with implication.  One of my offspring has it tattooed on the soft inside of an upper arm.  I feel good about that as a life motto (even if I still don't know what I think about the means of adornment).

Today I heard the context for the first time.

With what shall I come before the Lord,
and bow myself before God on high?
Shall I come before him with burnt offerings,
with calves a year old?
Will the Lord be pleased with thousands of rams,
with ten thousands of rivers of oil?
Shall I give my firstborn for my transgression,
the fruit of my body for the sin of my soul?

Those preceding verses are packed with the weight of guilt of sin -- not a casual acknowledgement that someone slipped up.  Thousands of rams.  Ten thousands of rivers of oil. 

The fruit of my body for the sin of my soul. 

I have fallen short of a standard that is unreachable to me.  I am indebted beyond my ability to ever pay. 

That nifty three-point life motto is actually the overflowing, grace pouring, running over answer to the question -- with what shall I come before the Lord? 

He has told you, O man, what is good;
and what does the Lord require of you
but to do justice, and to love kindness,
and to walk humbly with your God.

It's not a checklist of moral living to be misappropriated by my pharisaical heart, but a joyful  THANK YOU!   The staggering, crippling, immobilizing debt has been paid in full.
Live justly, love mercy, walk humbly.
Only that.

I hope the little girls were more astute than I.