Wife Rule #37: Charity is Love

Charity was born just four days ago, and I suppose the title of this Wife Rule is the first of a thousand times our daughter will have the obvious double-meaning of her name exploited. I hope she doesn't mind this aspect of her name. Charity is one of the most beautiful words in the English language, one I am well acquainted with because of my wife.

I have been thinking a lot about what I could write that would sufficiently honor this special little person who has so recently joined our family. We are all madly in love with her. Even Andrew, just two, raises his already squeaky voice up a few notches in pure adoration when he approaches her, cooing excitedly as he gently pats her forehead with his chubby toddler hands. My wife has really outdone herself in growing this little beauty.

So, I'm going to honor Charity with two brand new poems, written today, just for her. I don't usually write poetry, but occasionally it seems the only medium refined enough to do my feelings justice. It doesn't much matter if anyone else likes them; they're for Charity.


"Sleeping"

If I could only know what you can't tell,
What images dance behind tightly-closed eyes,
What would you say to me?

Would you tell me of Him
Whose arms you recently left
To come
Into frail mortal arms waiting anxiously?

Would you tell me just how I could possibly be
Worthy to bear the same name,
Father,
The title of nobility?

Would you forgive me up front
For future foolishness,
Inevitable,
Because of parental pride and anxiety?

Would you join me in thanking
Those who gave you to me,
Your angel mother
And the God of heaven, tearfully?

Would you affirm to me what I already know
When I look at your tightly-closed eyes:
That I'm getting a peek at Divinity?


"Baby in My Arms"

If it's possible to draw new meaning
Out of an old, worn-out cliche
I would speak of the brilliant whiteness
Of pure snow that fell today

Of the amazing singularity
Of each fluttering flake of fleece
To some, just one of a billion more
But to me, a masterpiece

Of the lush freshness in the air
After rain falls in sheets to the earth
The cleansing, heaven-sent, that comes
Bringing life, giving new birth

Of Nature giving her best to men
As from heaven distills the dew;
Yes, the old, worn-out cliches are fresh
To me when I'm looking at you.