Tag Archive: daughter

Rashad and Kaleigh Okay, maybe not babes exactly, but children nonetheless. The girl, Kaleigh, is my friend’s daughter. The boy, Rashad, is Kaleigh’s nephew. I took the picture when Cyndy and I were watching Kaleigh and Rashad for Randy and Kelly. Rashad is now about five or six. Randy came by today and had Rashad with him. He just dropped by to pick up Disc Golf brochures, so he ran in without Rashad.

When he was leaving, Randy asked me to come out to the car so Rashad would know who I was. Randy had asked him on the way over if he remembered me, and Rashad wasn’t exactly sure. He’s been over quite a few times since the picture was taken, by the way. When we reached the car, Randy knocked on the window and Rashad popped his head up and saw me. He squealed, then jumped in the back seat and kept squealing at me and grinning.

“Now he remembers who you are,” Randy said, laughing.

I said goodbye and went back in the house. Not long after the phone rang. I assume Randy was going Dennis to Valwood to Josey, because of the number of churches within the two blocks of Valwood. Either way, I answered the phone.

“You should hear Rashad,” Randy said. “The things that kids say. Rashad would say, wow, look at that cross. Look at that church. There sure are a lot of churches.”

“Look at that church!”

“Do you like church and churches?” Randy asked.


“What do you like most about church?”

“There’s a lot of Jesus stuff in church. And Jesus is my Lord!”

That is when the true spirit of Christmas shines through.

Peace be with you.

This is one of the poems I found while reading through my old notebooks. It is one of the poems I wrote for my daughter, Jennifer, when she was little. The picture is of her daughter, Kelley. But the wide-eyed innocence is the same.

That cute little wide-eyed innocence

in your eyes,

as you open them wider

to see more of what

is common to me,

but a wonder to you.


You lay on my stomach

and smile at me,

hitting me on the chest

ever so lightly.

Trying to tell me something

about the pen in my pocket

you are exploring

with that cute little wide-eyed innocence.


The things which are a wonder to you

will be larger with time.

But each time you are filled with wonder,

it will reappear –

that cute little wide-eyed innocence.

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