2,712 Hours

According to the little stork in the top right corner of this page, that's how long we have until Sam gets here. 113 days. 16 weeks. Less than 4 months. 2,712 hours. And as I'm typing this, the clocks in my office are steadily ticking- tick, tick, tick- moving us closer and closer to the big day.

I don't mean that to sound ominous or dark, but it is scary to think that in that short time, there's going to be this little stranger in our house that we're responsible for. This baby that we've never met is going to move in, and it's up to us to make sure he's healthy and well adjusted. I've got to teach him how to walk, talk, throw a spiral, bait a hook, tell a joke, talk to girls, drive a car, use the bathroom, shave, ride a bike, tie his shoes, pray, wear a tie, do laundry, cook a steak, use tools, and on, and on, and on, ad infinitum. And that's the thing that concerns me most.

When I'm in public and see kids acting up, my gut reaction is to blame the parents. They should teach their kids better. When a kid can't throw a ball, spell his name, or count to ten, I blame the parents. They're responsible for what their child doesn't know, and now I'm jumping into that pond with them.

If Sam plays t-ball and can't throw it to first, that's on me. If he gets to kindergarten and doesn't know his ABC's, that's me. If he gets to middle school and is disrespectful to a teacher, my fault. Liz and I are responsible to teach him everything he needs to know. It's up to us. He is our responsibility. This little life is in our hands (I know that ultimately it is in God's hands, but you know what I mean). God is giving us this little person and saying, "Raise him. Teach him. Take care of him." That's a big deal.

So, we covet your prayers and encouragement. We won't be bashful about asking for help, and hopefully our friends won't be bashful about answering our questions. I just want to raise him well, and the day is quickly approaching when we'll find out how it goes. Tick, tick, tick...

-Jared