The Doors Open

I’m standing with my daughter on my arm. The thick wooden doors shut in front of us. We’ve both thought about this moment for a long time.
The music starts and the doors open.

My mind races back to last year when I was on a retreat. The priest suggested that we focus our time on one particular intention. My intention was for God to bring a good, strong man into my daughter’s life. Someone who will bring her closer to Christ so that she can experience the same joy and happiness that I had when I fell in love with Lisa. A few weeks later, Addie was home from school. When telling a story, I noticed she mentioned the name Stone several times. I said, “You sure seem to have Stone in the middle of a lot of these stories.” She knew what I meant and I saw her smile. In 21 years, I’d never seen that look on her face. She was so joyful. It seemed to just radiate from her. At that moment, I knew my prayer was answered.

That night I remember in bed trying to get my head around it all. I asked Lisa, “Are you sure that he’s the one? Do you think Stone is God’s answer to my prayer?” She asked, “Why do you seem so surprised?” I paused for a moment and said, “He’s nothing like me!” Lisa laughed and put her hand on my shoulder and said, “Baby, she’s not looking for someone like you. She is like you. She’s looking for someone more like me.”

The music starts and the doors open.

I look down the aisle and see the cross. I walk towards it. The more steps I take, the longer the church becomes. The soft music is calming and I feel a peace wash over me. I break my focus from the cross for just a moment to notice all of the people looking at us. Friends and family from different chapters of our lives are all there, smiling and full of joy. This must be what walking into heaven feels like. We keep our steps slow and in rhythm. I feel my daughter holding back tears. I know just by her breathing. I offer a light squeeze. Our steps continue. As we approach the altar, the statues of angles and saints look down on us as the sunlight pours through the stained glass. I remove her vail. One last embrace.

I take my seat. My work is done. I’ve raised her and loved her with God’s grace, the best I could. I was so young when she was born. Not much older than she is now. Where did the last 22 years go? I’ve been so blessed with this great commission - To be the father of my children. There is nothing I have built that I am more proud of. For so long, this has been my mission, my calling, my vocation.

But what does God ask of me now? Speak Lord, your servant is listening….