You didn't know I was watching you play with the kids this evening.
You stood at the foot of our stairs with our two youngest, giving each of them a chance to jump off the fourth step, into your arms.
Corrie wasn't sure. It was a leap for her, literally and figuratively, and it would require a few inches of being airborne before she landed in your arms. "I'll catch you," you said quietly.
But Joseph, with the wisdom of a boy who has been around the block with his daddy a few times, knew just what to do. He confidently climbed to that step, and he looked over his shoulder to make sure his little sister was watching. Then with utter abandon, utter trust, he launched himself, laughing, into the air.
And you caught him.
Of course you did. You always do.
It is hard to imagine a greater gift this side of Heaven than knowing that my children have a daddy who will catch them, every time.
