My Father's Eyes

Dad is having trouble with macular degeneration and I'll be driving him to the eye doctor today to get another shot in the eye. Like most troubles, he's taking it in stride.

We have a good relationship... But I wasn't so sure... Those first couple days in the nursery at Marion General Hospital...

Where do I begin? The crib they placed me in was drab and very plain. Some of the other babies had newer and brightly colored cribs... And one of my wheels wobbled.

Why me?

My mother's milk was fine. But some of the other infants got formula, and though it wouldn't have been as good for me, I think I should have been afforded the experience. And maybe there was another breast nearby that had sweeter more abundant milk? Sadly I'll never know.

There was a child in the crib next to mine that I liked very much and whose company gave me comfort. Suddenly she was gone... Leaving me terribly lonely.

And what about the time the doctor came in and circumcised me? How could a loving father allow that to happen? All that pain and humiliation... Where was Dad then?

There were many rooms in the hospital that I never got to see. Dad could have easily addressed that situation... And the most painful inequity of all was that I only had 48 hours in the nursery! Some infants had 49, 50.... Some even got to stay for 72 hours!!! How was that fair?

Still, I left the nursery a long time ago and I now know that Dad had an entirely different perspective on my first two days at the hospital.

He was there for me, making sure that I had everything I needed.. Even if I didn’t get everything I wanted.

But he was thinking about getting my bedroom ready… About my first steps… The talks we would have and the things we would do when I was no longer encumbered by such an underdeveloped brain and body.

I think the reason why I cried so much was simply because… All I could see was the nursery. I should have had more faith in my father.

Being an adult is a pretty glorious thing compared to those first 48 hours, and I almost never think about those two days. Still, the things of the nursery seemed very important to me at the time... But my life didn’t really begin until my father took me home.

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Some day my Heavenly Father will take me home, and it will be like waking from dream. And being in the presence of Jesus will make the best experiences on Earth seem like a warm bottle of milk in the nursery. I will never be more conscious, satisfied, or fulfilled than I will be on that day... As a creature created to fly... Finally spreads his wings.