My presence at the birth was completely unexpected.
In the giddy yet seemingly endless days leading to the birth of our first grandchild on Nov. 9, our daughter, Elizabeth, and I talked about everything under the sun. Whether I had stretch marks after pregnancy. Who would drive her to the hospital when her labor pains began. Who would walk the dogs while she was in the hospital. How much paternity leave would her husband, Ryan, get. When could her father, John, and I share the news on Facebook.
God of Heaven and Earth, as we fix our eyes on you, help us see as you see, hear as you hear, love as you love and serve as you serve. Renew us day by day until you call us to our eternal home with you.
I’ve been listening for the voice of God in a new way lately, not as the cry of the baby Jesus tossing and turning in a manger, but as our pre-risen Lord and Savior dying on a cross.
I have a favorite T-shirt.
It’s not my favorite shirt because it’s fancy or colorful. In fact, it’s just a white shirt received at the finish line of a 5-kilometer charity walk more than a decade ago.
