Birthdays are a curious event; they are curious because we wait a full year to celebrate a person's entrance into this world. We were all too eager to celebrate Emma's first birthday, but in truth, I celebrate her birthday every day of the year. I suppose I could be accused of being a Proud Papa, for Emma is a delight and a joy. If there is one thing holding me back it is that God is the author of her life; all I am doing is raising her. I often think of what a gift Emma has been, is, and will hopefully be, and with a humble sincerity thank God for her daily. It is not because she is always cheerful that I thank God, nor for those precious moments when she clearly indicates she wants Daddy Time; I thank God because He gave us a child to love, to care for, and to raise to become an heir of the Kingdom of God. Of all the ministries God could bestow upon a man (or woman) the ministry of raising a child may very well be the most important and most profound. It is humbling, and at times frightening, that God would leave such an important task to broken, inferior, and imperfect people. If there is one thing I have learned in my first year of being a dad, it is that in this too must I rely upon God's strength and God's will if I hope to be at all successful.

Pre-"emparenting" the entire concept of tracking your child's age in weeks seemed silly. Cognitively I understood that it's a developmental thing, but it was not until I had a little one of my own that I understood that it held more importance. As she aged in weeks we'd consult our book to see if she was developing properly, always a bit fearful that she might have some heretofore unknown problem. Truly, the moment she was born I was waiting to hear the pronouncement that she had ten fingers, ten toes, and the usual number of eyes, ears, nose, etc. I should have known that would be the first of many "Does she have . . . " moments in our lives. As the weeks did pass we did relax knowing that certain milestones only parents know or care about passed in her life, and she was indeed healthy and developing as every baby should. She went from involuntary muscle spasms that only looked like smiling to actually beaming when she saw us (a moment we cherished with great delight). She started to sit up on her own, started to roll over, and started to make noises other than crying. She became more aware of her surroundings, knew the difference between Mommy and Daddy (Mommy has hair on her head, Daddy has it on his face) but never showing a preference between us, and quickly discovered that kitties are a fun thing. She was, and still is, mesmerized by the world outside the windows, found, and finds, almost more fun in the packing materials than in the toy itself, and still tolerates baths reasonably well.

It has been a great year. Working at home was the best decision I made if not for one simple fact: Emma likes to go to bed early. It is rare to see Emma still awake after 6:30 PM on any given night. We know we are blessed, spoiled maybe, that she goes down early and sleeps for 12 to 13 hours. Were I not working from home I'd be coming home from the office in time to read her a story and tuck her in, but never play with her. Instead I have but a 10 ft commute to work, and manage to clock off and have nearly two full hours with her every night. Not only that but I've been able to be there for every first, from her first Mommy-assisted steps, to her first crawl. I get to eat lunch with my entire family every day, I get to take breaks and read stories to Emma, play hide-and-go-seek, peek-a-boo, or Emma's favorite, rocket-ship Emma. The occasions where my quiet little office is interrupted by the wails and screams of an Emma in pain find me rushing out to see if she needs or wants a Daddy hug to make it all better to the point where after the Mommy hug she now reaches out to me for comfort as well, then goes back to playing. No amount of money, prestige, power, or career advancement could ever be worth what I've been blessed to enjoy just by working at home.

Even though I daily celebrate Emma's birth Holly and I were looking forward to Emma's first birthday. The party may have been more for us than for Emma: it was a chance to delight in her as others came to celebrate her birthday. We had a wonderful turn-out ranging from moms from the Mom's Group (I call it Emma's Play Group), folks from our church, Emma's great-grandmother, a cousin of mine, grandma and grandpa Murray, to friends from college and former co-workers. It warmed my heart to see so many people gathering with the intent and purpose of honoring Emma. She was an amazing little trooper the entire time. The moms from the Mom's Group brought their precious little ones and Emma played with them and shared toys with delight. There was a particular moment where Mommy pulled Emma around the room in a wagon; Emma's face could not have had a bigger smile nor a happier grin! Afterwards the same ride was offered to the other little munchkins, possibly encouraged by Emma's enthusiastic endorsement.

Despite my quiet insistence that all we needed and wanted from our guests was their presence and happy well wishing for Emma, many brought with them gifts. True to form Emma had more fun with the balloons, tissue paper, gift bags, cards, and wrapping paper than the toys themselves. Among her gifts she got her first doll, her first tea set, a toy stroller (in which the doll fits), and even a genuine Pippi Longstocking outfit direct from Sweden from her Uncle Adam. Holly was delighted in the doll and stroller (and Emma loves pushing the stroller around the house) while I was delighted to see the toy tea set, which Emma and I play with, mostly by playing the music the teapot makes.

We had a technical snafu in that the camcorder didn't record everything we thought we told it to, so we were heartbroken to find we did not capture The Cake Moment in full. It was a really neat time; Emma was in her high-chair, and Mommy brought the cake out (which she made, frosting and all) complete with a burning candle, while everyone was singing to Emma. Emma had the loveliest look of confusion bordering on delight, wondering why everyone was looking at her and all singing the exact same thing. Then the cake was in front of her and . . . she didn't know what to do with it. She tried lifting the entire thing to her face, but decided it was a bit too heavy, and then in one of those delightfully cute moments, eliciting a distracting "Awww" from the crowd of onlookers, Emma decided to lean her open mouthed face down to the cake. After Mommy helped get a few bites into her mouth Emma rather disappointingly decided she didn't quite like the cake. We had a better show of mess making the night before when Holly and I gave Emma some left over frosting to play with than we did on her actual birthday, but nonetheless it was a magical time that I'll remember always.

Emma is a year old now, and still growing up. Soon she'll be standing and walking on her own. She's blowing kisses, and understand us better than we think, for she knows what a clock and a lamp is, and where they are in the house. She knows cat and kitty are the same thing and they roam our house ever wary of Emma's reach. Soon I expect we'll hear sounds that approximate English to the degree that a stranger will understand it. It has been a great year, but I think the best is yet to come!