Bags of Bran

November 23, 2013, 8:57 pm
Filed under: Biography

Perhaps you wonder if I’ve forsaken this blog like a gardener in the desert, the dried husks of whose former work may still be heard to rattle in the breeze. I think I have a pretty good excuse, and she has a first name.

Baby Child!

Baby Child!

This is Annika, or “A Minor” as I refer to her in print. She is my new reading partner. She also takes up a good bit of time, which I am more than willing to give her. She is the baby I have known best in my brief run of the earth, and I must say that she really has a unique take on life.

She can lie on her back for an hour next to the big front window and stare at the sky and the trees above our house. I have entertained the notion that she can see the angels that I am too blockish to see anymore, and that is what she finds so fascinating up there. I participated with her skygazing this afternoon between bouts of responsibility, and we had a grand old time. I didn’t see any angels, but that is my problem, not hers.

I am hoping for a day when I am old and wise enough to look upon the world with the wonder that overtakes her when she encounters something outside of her experience. I view my job as cultivating her wonder into wisdom, and hopefully gaining some wisdom in the process. So I want my daughter to be able to tell a Borzoi from a Saluki. I want her to be able to recognize a bird by its song. I want her to know trees by their leaves, as well as their fruit. I would rather that she had good character judgment than the easy prosperity to be had from glad-handing. I want her to love the Lord her God with all her heart, mind, soul, strength…

And I am ready to be educated by her in the art of wonder.


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