BreakPoint Blog
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New Addition to the Morris Family Topics: Marriage & Family Some daddies brag about it. I prefer to blog about it. On Monday morning, just after 6:00, Gabriela and I welcomed our new daughter, Astrid Elizabeth, into the world. Six pounds, ten ounces, a head covered in black hair, a sucking reflex that everyone but mommy thinks is cute, and no shortage of loudly expressed opinions, she's a shoo-in for a future pointificator, if you ask me. I never imagined that someone so small could steal so much of my heart. Our God is great, and great things He has done! (Psalm 126:3) |
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Comments:
While I may well have said something to the effect that the world could use more people like Shane Morris, I had no expectation of being taken quite so literally.
(facetiousness OFF) (I heard that.)
Heartiest congratulations to you and your entire extended family, Shane!
My father was a cigar aficionado. So I’ve had second-hand exposure to a great many different brands. As I recall, his favorites (not necessarily mine; our tolerances on the MCC scale (mule-choke-capacity) were considerably divergent) were House of Windsor, Rigoletto, and Romeo y Julieta, though of the scads he partook I never heard him denigrate any (though I did see a few make him weep).
Until I get to heaven where I can safely consume Longbottom Leaf in its various glorified modes of presentation I’ll confine myself to the pink and blue bubble-gum variety; though perhaps on very special occasions (and this blog certainly signals that!) I *might* be persuaded to fire one up and pretend to smoke in the spirit of exuberant celebration. In such case, I favor Dutch Masters, a predilection due, no doubt, to my many years as a Calvinist.
But let there be the tiniest whiff of gunpowder and I’m done. Practical jokes never were my thing. I prefer puns. I can’t say that I’ve absolutely *never* had puns backfire on me, but at least with them I usually manage to save a little face.
Welcome to that blissful fraternity made privy, diaper by diaper, to the deep things of fatherhood, and to the otherwise inscrutable mystery of why, in spite of preternatural mess, the Heavenly Father delights to give life.
I await my cigar. But I’m warning you, I’ll not light up if I detect the least hint of a fuse.