My daughter is six-years old, going on 14.  She loves to draw, laugh and ride bikes. Her favorite animal is a toucan and she has donated seven teeth to a toothfairy named “Starlight”.  She is beautiful in the place it counts, and best of all – she still runs to me.

I see her after school, and she runs to me.  Walking in from work…here she comes.  Curly hair everywhere, legs flailing, crooked smile and all – she runs to me.

I know there is a day coming soon when that will stop.  The run will turn to a walk.  The  smile might turn into a very calculated and cordial smirk.  And all the reckless and unfiltered love that runs hard toward her Daddy might be swallowed down by approval, acceptance and cool.

As a Father and a person, I over-think things.  I exhaust myself, and those around me by talking, analyzing and pondering.  So, as an act of mercy (for you) and discipline (for me) I’m not going to figure out how to deal with this forthcoming transition in this here word document.  Instead I simply want to remind and encourage us to breathe it in while we can.  We are not guaranteed a single thing on this Earth, and neither are they. 

So I walk into this new day eager to discover the small treasures we are given from hour to hour…the little things that truly fill the gaps in this“life to the full”.  I will try to keep my eyes open to the here and now with no expectation of tomorrow. 

Because if I don’t –

I fear she might run right by.