Twenty-Two Candles--And Just One Wish

The first time I met my second oldest daughter, she was four years old, and I was dating her mother. She shyly stepped out the apartment door behind her older sister, wet fingers in her mouth, unsure of exactly who I was. When she saw her sister excitedly running towards me, she followed close behind. Soon, my legs were wrapped in tiny arms belonging to two girls I didn't yet know, but who would later become my daughters. As the youngest of the two, my second daughter naturally lingered in her sister's shadow, but her quiet, shy demeanor didn't stop her sweet and loving personality from shining through that shadow. After I became her dad, the next seven years were filled with her infectious giggling and evidence of her gentle nature. My second daughter was twelve years old when I came to prison. Today is my daughter's twenty-second birthday. It's unfair that she has had to grow through her teen years without the father she counted on providing for and protecting her. It's unfair that the man whom she first wrapped those little arms around was not there to hold her hand through tough moments, and to guide her through the years of teenage angst. It's also unfair that now, as she forges a path through adulthood that I am not there to guide her, praising her good choices and encouraging her toward better ones when she needs it. It's not fair to my daughter that I didn't think about how my crime would affect her when I made my stupid choices. She deserved better. My daughter is not in my life, and I don't know if she will ever choose to be, but that has not stopped me from thinking about her as she's grown up and praying for her every day. It pains me to know that I've missed building more memories with my daughters over the last nine plus years, but I have held onto the precious memories of years gone by. I have rested in the comfort of those memories, knowing that as much as I might not deserve it now, at one time my daughter's infectious giggles were at my corny jokes, and her gentle, loving nature brought light into my life. I'm hopeful that someday I can make things right and rebuild my broken relationship with my children. I don't deserve it, but I'll never stop praying for that opportunity. It would be the greatest gift of grace I could hope for. Today, for your birthday, I pray that you, my daughter, will have the gifts of peace, courage, joy, and hope.