We sit side-by-side, my dad and I. He has his arm tight around me, a big smile on his face. We are both holding my first book…a book dedicated to him, and without whom, its words would never have been written.
And how glad am I, how I have prayed for this day…that in his declining health, my dad would still be able to read my dedication to him. And he does!
And when I show him the photograph, he says his favorite word… ‘splendid’. And with a twinkle in his eye, he adds, ‘That’s splendid Glenys, you should put that photograph in every book!’
And I am astonished as I look carefully at that picture again…..to note the difference in my dad and I, and how, yet again, even though he is 90 years old, he is still teaching me…
Because when I first see that photograph, I look at myself first. I check my hair. I check my smile. I check my pose. I look okay.
But when my dad first sees that photograph, he looks at me first. He sees his daughter with her first book; he sees God; he sees the little child who will open its pages to meet Jesus there. He does not look at himself; he does not see that he is still wearing his plastic bib, or that underneath he is wearing his dressing gown, because it is after 6pm and he is ready for bed.
My dad sees only what is ‘splendid’…so splendid, in fact, that he would be willing to share this photograph with the world. And this I marvel at….because it is never about him, but always about someone else.
And so this is my prayer for this little book….let it not be all about me, but let it be all about God, and the little hands that will one day open its pages.