Wednesday, November 14, 2012

Knowing a Father

I headed to the Y the other morning and as I'm waiting on my ride, I hear the Bear stir upstairs.  Not wanting to wake him up with my exit, I creep up the stairs like a cartoon character (minus the little twinkle-toes-when-they-step sound) and pull his door closed.

From the other side of the door:

Bear:  Daddy?

Me:  Yes?

Bear:  Where are you going?

Me:  To the Y to work out.  You go back to sleep.  It's way-too-early o'clock.

Bear:  Okay.

And then I crept back down the stairs in the same cartoon gait, waited for my ride another minute, and headed out.

How did he know I was there?  How did he know it was me?

Because I'm his dad.  We've spent a whole lot of time together in close contact.  He knows my gait pattern.  He knows my smell.  He knows what my breathing sounds like.  He knows the kinds of actions I regularly take.  He knows that it's okay to go back to sleep.

He knows me.

What if we could say the same thing about our Father?

But that's just me thinking thoughts...

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