I thought with fair certainty, I knew this house when I moved here.

The thrum of its rhythmic beating familiar.
The crimson ebb and flow just outside my window.
Crescendos of crashing waves on barnacle accented rock.
Undulating white foam laced caresses of waves on simmering sands.

I KNEW it. I know nothing now, again.

Has he rewritten the entire landscapes of our hearts?

I know it’s happened to Jaclyn, too.
Before heading to bed, she sneaks into his room to peek at him.
I hear her catch her breath.
She steps back out of his room, her eyes glistening.

“Will this awe ever fade?”, she whispers.

“I think not. I hope not.” I say.

Each time I see his smile or take his hand I see before my heart’s horizon a shimmering ether, a portal erupting, rippling at my periphery.

With intense anticipation and insatiable curiousity, and yes, even a tiny bit of trepidation, I step to the edge, as of a new precipice, and lean out and over, trusting God to catch me, catch us, as we guide Max to his own next horizon.

-I wrote this back in 2014 and I am still so ever awed at being Max’s dad.
God has so blessed Jaclyn and I.

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