“Mommy”

“Yes Grace”  I can hear the the sing song frustration in my voice.

“Why does Daddy close his eyes when he puts me to bed?”

The question stops me cold. I wasn’t expecting it.  It’s a nightly ritual when putting Grace to bed that just as I am about to close the door she comes up with a question to stall. But usually it’s something like “where are we going tomorrow” or “what does (insert spanish word here that she learned from Dora) mean again?”

But not tonight.  Tonight she has a sincere question and I take a deep breath before answering.

“Because baby, he can’t see in the dark.”

“Oh”

I feel compelled to discuss it, to analyze and go deeper but she’s completely satisfied with my answer so I say goodnight and close the door. But it lingers.

I try to imagine, if it were me, if I were losing my vision, would I close my eyes in the dark?  I guess it would be natural, to feel like your controlling why it’s dark rather than it being something that is happening to you.  When I asked him about it he said that was probably right.  He hadn’t really thought about it before.

He thinks about more important things.  He thinks about the memories that he is making with his children each and every day.

He thinks about how he will be determined not to let this disease steal his joy.  He thinks about how God is using this in his life.  He thinks about how amazing a miracle cure would be and how awesome to see the stars again at night but he knows that if it doesn’t happen, his life will not be diminished for it.

Super Dad

He thinks about the man that God has created him to become, and he steps up to the challenge.