You are the living, breathing reminders to me of a God who doesn't just creates but a God who breathes the breath of love into the very lungs of His creations.
You are the artful masterpieces of complexity interwoven with the simplicity of pure joy.
And you, each of you, have a story, one that is unfolding and being penned each and every day that you get out of bed, plant your feet into the ground and meet the sunrise with your faces.
I marvel over the ways our lives have intersected.
Two solid and strong boys born of my very body.
And two beautiful and loyal girls born of our hearts.
All grown out of God's love.
Sometimes when I'm hugging your growing-ever taller bodies and touching the softness of your face and your hair, I can't help but see you for who you really are:
you are faith wrapped up in skin.
You are the fingerprints of a God who radiates love.
So if I always cry when I hug you,
I hope you'll remember that sometimes tears are sometimes just liquid gratitude that stain our sleeves and shirts with the the smallest pieces of our hearts.