My Girl 9:12 PM

Boys beware.

Labor Day 10:43 PM

I had an appointment to meet my daughter (my daughter?!) today, but she decided to hang out (literally - it looks like Dana is attempting to steal a fitness orb). Baby girl's hanging out may mean her personality more matches her dad's. Stockton came 2 weeks early and is very clear in his desires and instructions. (I will let you make the connection:) ).

She will come soon, and there will be the same anxious-nervous-excited-sleepless smoothie that comes with newborns. We will tiptoe around the house to let her sleep, make sure everyone has washed their hands before touching her, and keep plenty of wipes handy for the baby-girl-blowout. We will help Stockton make the fourth major transition in a less than three months (potty, big boy bed, glasses, baby sister), and we will be exhausted.

I hope she comes on Easter.

Father / Daughter Day 12:50 AM

For the second weekend this year, I served as referee of several Upward basketball games.

I know I missed several calls today.

A man towered over the baseline. I could not take my eyes off of him. He was demonstrative, sometimes overly so, and his muted-histrionics focused on one particular girl. His daughter.

The demonstrations were not ones of anger or disgust or frustration. Each movement was punctuated with a smile and either a palms-down push, (pre-tainted) Tiger Woods fist pump, or the classic coach double clap.

But the man was not a coach – he was just a father. A father who caught his daughter’s eye with every trip down the court and directed her where to go and what to do – through sign language.

I recently saw Babel, which tells the story of six interlocked characters from across the globe. One of the characters is a deaf girl, and one of the most jarring scenes is her going to a nightclub; able to see the lights and the moving people, but unable to hear the rhythm they are bouncing to.

Unable to hear the coach, the other girls, or even the referees, the girl looked to her father. The father wholly and lovingly obliged, never missing a chance to encourage. Without saying a word, he loved her.

I hope when my baby girl gets here, she sees me running the baseline, catching her eye, encouraging her, and painting for her a picture of kingdom-love without uttering a syllable. I hope I learn to speak her language.

(I also hope she plays basketball.)