I'm listening to the water running in the kitchen.The pounding feet of these two young people making their lunch.
For a long time, I had an image of the tiny footprint of baby John Paul hanging on the wall in my office. Just a few inches of little foot.
Who is this man living in my house? Where did he come from?
Pound, pound, pound, pound. Going about his business. He wears my shoes all the time. On his large, grubby human feet.
And there is the determined stride of a young lady. That's my "little bundle of sweetness," Agnese Janaro. If I say she's pretty, she'll kill me. She clomps through the house too, like her father.
I shouldn't be writing any of this, of course. I'm embarrassing them.
Meanwhile, Lucia sits quietly, reading a book. Teresa and Josefina are somewhere else. We do still have some "kids" around here.
The other day, John Paul and I were at the dining room table discussing something like...gosh, what was it...human nature and the role of sensation in epistemology (this kid is smart, but we've always known that). Josefina comes pitter-pattering up (with her little feet) and starts shouting, "Look Daddy, look Daddy, look Daddy!"
"What's that?"
"Stickers!"
Haha, the spectrum in this house runs from philosophy to...stickers. What an interesting place to grow up in. Its a crazy place! I think its also a happy place.
I hope...I pray that its a happy place.
The first time we drove with John Paul was when we brought him home from the hospital two days after he was born. I wanted to go five miles an hour: "Sheesh, we have a b-b-b-baby in the car!" Fatherhood seemed utterly overwhelming.
Nearly 16 years later I'm still overwhelmed. I'm more overwhelmed than ever. In less than a month, that "baby" will be driving the car.
Meanwhile, we still have one set of little feet in the house. Thank you God for these children!
