I smiled at the smile on his face as I laid him back down in his crib. It was 10:30 and Jude had been asleep for 3-1/2 solid hours, but he needed a snack to tide him over into the wee morning hours. (He’s a grazer like his momma.)

As I pulled my hands out from under his neck and back and let the sleep positioner cradle him, he stirred and shuffled his swaddled feet. So I put my hand back on his head and laid my other hand over his chest. Then I timed my own breath with his, letting my exhalations lull him toward deeper slumber. A minute later, he yawned, sighed contentedly and smiled again. He was asleep now.

I pulled my hands off his head and chest, but let them hover over him. And it was as I inhaled his sweet baby’s breath that I realized something. Jude will never remember this moment. How he was hungry. How I fed him. How I swayed him back to sleep. How I stayed with him till he reached the REM stage. How I saw him sigh and smile.

He’ll never remember it.

But I’ll never forget.

Maybe there’s something of God in that moment. In fact, I’m certain there is.

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Today my dad is retiring, so normally this would be a day to congratulate him on a job well done. A day to make much of his many years with one earth-moving company. And I could. I could write at length about his excellence, integrity and reliability in the company where he worked for nearly 32 years. I could say all sorts of glowing and true things about the way he worked his way up from chipwheeler-sweeper on the factory floor, through an engineering degree, and ultimately to several overseas assignments. And I have no doubt that I could call on countless coworkers from over the years who would have nothing but good to say about Scott Hendryx.

I could say all those things. But I’ve thought of something else to say.

What I appreciate most about all the years and energy my dad devoted to his job is that he devoted exponentially more to his family. For as necessary as his presence was at his job, later on requiring a good bit of travel and three years living overseas, he was incredibly present for us. At the park flying kites and pushing me on the swing. At Ticketmaster waiting in overnight lines for New Kids on the Block tickets. At my cheerleading basketball games. At show choir events. At home for dinner. At my brother’s hockey games. At plays and recitals and concerts. Even at numberless writers’ nights playing percussion and singing back-up for me in Nashville.

I don’t know how he managed to be such an honorable employee, so celebrated by his coworkers and superiors, and at the same time remain so consistently dedicated to his wife and kids. When I say things like this to him, he just sort of shrugs and says something like, “I just made it work. You guys were always more important.”

So Dad, today I celebrate you. You are a rarity. Your accomplishments as a hard-working man of integrity who loved his family more than anything are to be honored. Thank you for providing more for our family than just a paycheck…but for giving us your self.

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