Of course, now my wife and I know that our lives are over. He's standing all the time now, and is even shuffling a long the couch a little bit. Walking isn't too far away.
Just after he stood up for the first time in our living room I had to lower his crib mattress, because it wasn't two days later that he was standing up in his crib.
But he, of course, has never missed an opportunity to use his new skills to manipulate mom and dad. What's sadder than a sobbing baby standing in his crib and clinging to the rails wanting us to come in and get him out? Invariably he's facing the door to his nursery - crying with the assurance that we'll come to door, feel sorry for creating this silly thing called 'bedtime', pick him up and take him to play all night.
I say invariably - but there was one exception. A heart-breaking one.
My wife and I try really hard to let him cry it out. Once the door closes on bedtime, we do our best to wait out the sobs. But one night he just wouldn't stop with the crying.
It was my turn to calm him down, so I went in, expecting to see my boy grin when I opened the door.
But this time he was facing the back of the room. He was clinging to the back rail of his crib and sobbing. He was stuck - standing was still really new to him, and he didn't know yet how to get out of it. So he was stuck, crying, and facing the wrong direction. He couldn't face the door - he didn't know how. He couldn't face the door that his help comes from.
God taught me something about God's parental love that night, though. I went and picked him up, rocked him, calmed him down, and put him back down to bed. But it's stuck with me ever since.
I hope that when I get stuck, crying, and facing the wrong direction, I can remember that I do know to face the door my help comes from.
I raise my eyes toward the mountains.
Where will my help come from?
My help comes from the Lord,
the maker of heaven and earth.