Just over six years ago, while I was in labor with my daughter, I told my husband, “I need you to sing.”
I hadn’t considered anyone singing while I gave birth. Singing never figured into a single conversation about our baby and delivery. But as I moved through stronger and stronger contractions, I inexplicably wanted to hear my husband’s voice and I wanted that voice to be singing a song.
My husband doesn’t sing solo in public. Ever.
And he hadn’t prepared a song.
But I had asked and he was willing and so he started humming a tune until the words showed up.
That early morning, he sang to me for a good hour, probably longer.
I like plans and I hold onto them beyond their usefulness. But some of the most best parts of life (parenting being one for me) are exercises in fielding the unexpected, creative experiences in which the raw materials shift from day to day. You cannot plot every moment; you must roll with them as they come.
Happy Father’s Day to the man who showed me how to respond graciously, generously, in the moment, on the day he became a father.