Cry out

Well, my boy, you're a week and a day old. There have been nights, some good and some bad. Your mother is losing more sleep than I am, mainly because she's not only your primary caretaker, but she's also your entree and salad bar. And, I can sleep through almost anything. Your crying to me is something that I can handle, and that may make me one of the few people who can. You could be screaming and screaming because of a dirty diaper or hunger, but it's hard for me to notice because you're a blessing to us and this world whether you like it or not. You're a week old and I'm looking for a job. I'm looking for a difficult job to find. Sometimes when I think about getting that job that I want and need, I get very, very emotional. Angry, sad, depressed, and doubtful. I feel that I made mistakes in my life about my chosen career path and its potential to keep food on the table (and diapers on your butt) for all of us, and I want to do things over. It may seem childish, but even I throw little tantrums (which I know you'll be throwing in the cereal aisle of the grocery store very soon). I cry out to your mom, and to God (and sometimes who ever will listen). Your mom gives me the usual answers, "I know you'll find something...I know your talent and someone else will recognize it too." But sometimes those answers don't do anything. I still feel emotional. Sometimes when I cry out to God, for whatever I'm worried about or needing, he helps me feel better, but sometimes he doesn't. Even though God knows you, every cell in your being, he still wants you to trust in him, just like you trust in your mother to keep you fed right now. And sometimes you have to be patient with God, too. I can hear you crying out when I hold you and I can try to make you feel better, but patience is something you haven't learned yet, even though I know it is something you will learn. Maybe when I cry out, I am learning how God wants me to be patient too.