I'm awake. I remember Him. I gaze upon them before I part. They lie in their bed, unaware of me watching. I leave. They sleep. The small home I help provide is their world.

They play. They explore--learning to move, to feel, to see, to know--not once thinking of how it all came to be. Crayons, toys, books--it's all for them. The fridge opens, the pantry exposed. They expect food to be there. Not a thought. Not a doubt. Just hunger. Cereal, milk, yogurt, messy fingers, messy faces--all fed. Tummies are full.

Now it's nap time. My wife likes nap time. Once again they lie in the comfort we provide--all while I work. I'm far but close, always thinking of them.

My phone rings. I only hear breathing. I smile. My wife's phone is now missing. I do it all for them. I work that they may grow. They trust so deeply. How I yearn to do the same.

They see so little of how it all came to be--never questioning, only trusting.

I come home to second hugs. Now I'm a horse.

We eat dinner, brush teeth.

Jammie time.

Finally it's bedtime. Once again they lay their heads on the pillows we provide.

I will be their protector. I will be their gentle friend. I will be my wife's faithful husband. I am a father. I am also a son. And while I may not understand all that He does for me, I do know that all that I am and all that I have is because He's a father to me. I now stand very aware of how it all came to be.