Have you ever held a new-born baby?
They are completely and utterly helpless. Newborns can’t even hold their head up. All they do is eat, sleep, cry, spit up and dirty diapers.
I remember the very first time I held EJ. She was all swaddled up in a blanket with her eyes closed and breathing quietly.
My first thought was
“You are the most beautiful little thing I’d ever seen.”
My second thought was
“Oh crap! Now what do I do?”
Over the last 4ish years it’s been nothing short of a fascinating adventure to see EJ grow into a toddler and become a little girl who loves pink and hates vegetables.
Occasionally she’ll fall and get hurt or be frightened of something and need Daddy to scoop her up and hold her tightly in my arms.
Why does EJ do this?
Because she knows that in my arms she is safe. Nothing can hurt or get her when Daddy has his arms wrapped around her.
I realized a peculiar thing when I first held EJ in the hospital. I’ve felt the same thing every time she’s snuggled in my arms.
I feel safe.
That doesn’t make any logical sense to me. My daughter thinks I’m Superman (she’ll find out Santa is a fraud before I let that misconception die). In her eyes I can lift mountains, see through walls and obliterate bad guys with one hand.
And yet, when this little tousle-headed girl comes running into my arms I’m the one who feels safe. Like everything will be okay despite any dire circumstances.
I’ve often reflected on the imagery of God as my Father. What I did not expect was to feel His love and protection in the hug of my little girl.



