Lessons from our children

Last night, I held my two-week old baby girl and watched her study my face. She's beautiful, and it took all of five seconds after seeing her come into the world for her to steal my heart. I've looked at her hundreds of times, and there's always something that catches my attention about her, but last night it was the way in which she studied me.

Those big eyes opened wide to examine my features. Her brow bent studiously, with to reveal a seriousness in her observation. She even lifted her hand, while not yet having gained the mastery of it, as if she wanted to touch my face for a more complete examination.

What it said to me was that she will know me better than almost anyone in the world, except my wife. She will see my strengths and my weaknesses. She will be able to tell when things are bothering me, even when no one else can. She'll probably be able to tell how I'll handle most situations before I ever even act. In time, she may begin to act and react in the very same why.

It's a sobering thought. Talk about living in a glass house. That's what your life becomes, in a very real and often profound sense, when children become a part of it.

Moriah is our fourth child, and that means that there will be four pairs of eyes watching my life from day to day, in addition to my wife and friends. Even now, I hear my oldest son and daughter talk to one another and am struck by the fact that they are becoming miniature figures of my wife and I. I can't count the number of times that I see myself in them—not just in their physical traits, but also in their personalities.

Often, my oldest son Elijah will ask me if my head hurts or if I am sad. He's so very young, but he knows me so well. The other day, I was working on something and he asked me to do something for him. I told him that I would in a minute, to which he responded, "You say that, but you don't always do what you say." There is little about me that escapes him, and that has had a profound influence on my life.

My children have all become living mirrors in which I notice things about myself that I never saw or understood until they became a part of my life. I thank God for each one of them, because they have given me a daily opportunity to evaluate myself—something that I did so little of before I had them.

It's amazing how much children can change the very direction of one's life. Some things speed up. Some things slow down. Priorities change. Even the way we look at ourselves and the world around us changes.

When you see yourself through the eyes of a child, you're never quite the same.

So I held my little girl with arms to which I hoped that she in time would turn with all her hurts and fears and questions, and I watched her study me. I could see a vague reflection of my face in her eyes. For all that I will learn about her, as she grows—indeed, for all the things that I will see in her that no one else will—I wondered what she will see in me.

Will she see a someone who was there for her when she needed me and whom she aspires to be like? Or will she groan beneath her breath to see my character reflected in her life and hope, one day, to overcome it? Will she learn from me the values and integrity that I esteem so highly, or do I fall too short of what I want her to become?

A man is never worse for having asked such questions. In fact, there are few things that motivates us to become what we truly aspire to be like seeing ourselves reflected in our children's eyes and character. I hope that one day, when my babies have all grown and holding babies of their own, that they will understand how much I love them and how much their presence has changed my life.

I know that I am a better man for having held and cared for them. I can only pray, each day, that they too will be better men and women for the time that they shall spend with me.

There is something magical about holding a little child—something powerful. I guess that's exactly what God intended. As dependent as they are upon us, it is truly humbling to realize how much they teach us. About ourselves. About life. About what's important. About the very nature of love itself.

Jacob Doran is the reporter for the West Shore News.