She slipped her small, smooth, eight-year-old hand into mine. As she took my hand and moved closer to me, I lost control of my emotions. Her face was lit up with joy. In her white dress and veil she seemed like an angel to me.
When I saw the joy in her eyes I was no match for it. Tears of joy ran down my face. Right there the middle of the church; right in the midst of strangers and family—right where my daughter held her first communion.
I sat there wrestling with a number of conflicting thoughts and emotions about the tears that streamed down my face. Would my daughter or other family members be embarrassed? After all, I'm a man! We're supposed to control our emotions. Why can’t I have the freedom to cry freely and without judgment? After all, I was experiencing pure joy and gratitude.
Later, after the celebration was over, we arrived at home to begin “business as usual”. I was met with many projects that I'd neglected to start: the garden, the lawn, the inside of the house. But as I felt that familiar sense of having too many things to do and too little time to do them, I was reminded of that moment with my daughter and how it could never be taken away.
And it was then that I knew the decision about which project to start really wasn't important. In fact, it didn't matter if I started any of them at all.
On that day, the vision of my daughter snuggled next to me was etched in my mind forever.
There are no manuals for moments like these. They simply grab us and take us where they want. These are the kind of moments most of us live for—whether we know it or not. These are the moments our hearts takes over—moments that brings us the closest to pure love; moments when we see our children as amazing gifts from God.