Sunday afternoon of June 28th, my wife of eleven years gave birth to our fifth and final child. I’ve spent the five days since then meditating on what it means to be a father again. As the youngest of our six children, Little Norah Hope will always be the baby. She’ll always standout as one of only two girls in a blended family of mostly boys. Norah’s only sister, Jourdan, lives in Memphis, TN, hundreds of miles away. I hope they meet one day, but if and when they do, Norah would have spent most of her life as an “only child”.
Her birth was unique. She’s the only one of our children who was born at home with a midwife instead of in a hospital.
But most of all, her birth means a lot to me because it’s a chance to finally be there from start to finish for one of my children’s births. Between stupid youthful decisions and deployment with the Marine Corps, I’ve missed out on a lot of events in the lives of my sons and daughters over the years.
But God is faithful and promises “to restore the years that the locusts have eaten“.
June 28 was one of the ways He’s keeping His word.
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