Letter to Shade: A father writes to his newborn daughter
By John David Powell (01/09/07)
Please indulge a father a moment of your time. The following is a letter I wrote to my younger daughter on the day of her birth eighteen years ago. It has remained in the electronic files all these years. Now seemed like a good time to share it with her and with those kind enough to read it here.
Dear Shade:
It's hard to believe you are really here. Your visit is still somewhat of a surprise, even though we made and confirmed your reservations several months ago.
I think of many things as I look at you and I marvel at the wonder of your presence. Who will you be? Why are you here? What does your future hold? What will be my part?
These thoughts are not uniquely mine; I imagine fathers across the ages have thought the same thoughts and felt the same feelings as they gazed upon their little ones. But there is only one you and one me.
You are one of the privileged children. You were born to parents who are far from perfect, yet blessed with the ability to love and the desire to pass that love to you.
The one thing of this world in which you now live that saddens me the most is the terrible way we treat our children. In the largest city in the most technologically advanced nation in the world, bad people kill more than one thousand children each year. Many thousands more are abandoned, neglected or abused. Countless others are put to death before they are given a chance at life. And these horrible incidents are repeated in every city and town from sea to shining to sea.
Children in other countries suffer in many other ways. They suffer from famine, war, terrorism, disease. They grow old quickly and die young.
Why is it, Shade, that we spend more time and effort protecting whales and baby seals than protecting the most innocent of all God's creations? I look at your sleeping face and do not find the answer, only another question: what could be more important than this?
Love is a strange thing. It does different things to different people. In our family, love makes babies. Your mother and I needed ten years to amass so much love that it couldn't be contained within two people. The result was your sister.
Hill showed us new meanings of love. After six years, your mother and I accumulated so much more love that it exploded again. The result was you. I don't know how much more love we can stand.
So where do we go from here? We try and we pray. We try every day to do our best to provide you and your sister a loving home. We pray every day for strength and guidance to do whatever is needed so you both can grow healthy, happy, and smart and filled with love for God and man.
I may never be a great man and do heroic deeds. The world may never be a better place because I lived here. But that's okay. I have discovered a higher purpose, a nobler cause. My entire lot in life may be to provide a solid foundation for you and your sister. That's not such a bad goal when you think about it.
I love you and I'm glad you're here. We have quite an adventure ahead.
Love, Dad
John David Powell
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