I don’t remember at what point the knot in my throat appeared or when my eyes got all watery, but I nearly lost it when I saw my daughter coming down the aisle in her graduation gown. As she passed my pew she said “Hi daddy”, smiled, and strode by in perfect cadence. All I could do was whisper “Hi Jaquie….”, before ducking behind my video camera to regain my composure. I was so proud of her – she seemed so grown up. Seeing her up there with her classmates, so poised and confident, I thought to myself that she surely deserved some advanced certificate of accomplishment for all that she had done. I wondered if there was such a thing as “Summa Cum Laude” or a valedictorian candidate, for kindergarten. How about an advanced degree in “coloring” or a double major in “Alphabet” and “Counting”? OK – so maybe I was overreacting for kindergarten, but to me this WAS a landmark occasion. For some reason that song “Butterfly Kisses” popped into my head and I got all choked up again, because the lyrics were about a father reflecting on his daughter growing up and leaving home to get married some day. I remembered it seeming like such a short time ago when she first came into the world…

“Mr. Tun, don’t you want to use your camera for this?” Said a voice right next to me. “Huh? Oh yeah…..” I had to be reminded that the thing attached to my hand was a video camera, because I had been totally enraptured in the moment. I was in the delivery room, and for the past several minutes I had been just staring with a dumbfounded look on my face saying something intelligent like “Woah, Oh WOW!” This was nothing like I had ever experienced before. This was the miracle of life, and I was deeply humbled and thankful to be allowed the privilege of experiencing it. God had been so gracious to us; for despite our shortcomings and our feeble stabs at learning how to be decent parents, God still decided we were “good enough” to be blessed with a child.

I marveled at how the human body could produce a compact, little human being vested with a unique personality, stunning good looks from her father (truthfully, from her mother), and all the physical little attributes comparable to her grown-up parents. The fact that we were having a baby had seemed sort of surreal to me until I saw them hook up the heart monitor, showing the pulse of the life patiently waiting to get out.

It’s hard to put into words the emotions I felt just before my newborn daughter came into the world. I supposed it was the feeling all new daddies feel. It was a combination of wonderment at the miracle of life, anxiety over whether things would turn out OK, anticipation after nine months of waiting, and exhilaration at the possibility of being a father.

There was a time when I used to think that the “Ultimate rush” was flying high in the sky under the wings of a hang glider. When the spiraling air thermals lift you high above the mountains below and the wind rushes past as you gaze out across the scenic panoply below.

Not any more.

There was a time when I thought the greatest satisfaction was derived from one’s work. It would be a place where I would develop the coolest, most sophisticated application that would dazzle the client and my bosses alike. Where I could make a ton of money and skyrocket up the corporate ladder.

Not any more.

There was a period in my life when I thought the only thing I wanted was to be married, to have a nice quiet home, and be able to go out to just enjoy each other’s company. That the best use of the weekend would be to get together with friends, or go out dancing, or hang out at a fancy new restaurant.

Not any more.

I do confess that there are times when I miss those experiences I mentioned before, and wonder where my life would be had circumstances taken me down a different path. But those thoughts fade easily away when I look down on my little ones sleeping (we now have two), when I hear their quiet breathing and see their peaceful expressions. When they wake up and lift their arms because they want me to carry them, to hug them, and play with them. When I toss them way up in the air (to my wife’s chagrin) and catch them and they giggle and tell me to “do it again, daddy”. When they tug my pinky with their little hand to show me something they made (usually a doodled mess, but precious nonetheless). When we sit and read a book at night and pray to Jesus to keep them safe. Those moments, and so many more, remind me of my greater purpose in life; it’s the most rewarding and fulfilling thing I’ve ever done –

Just to be “daddy”.

Jon Tun copyright 2002 jwtun@tva.gov