I remember vividly the joy of learning that Claudia and I were expecting our first child.  After the initial elation and the prayers for a complication-free pregnancy and the birth of a healthy child, I remember praying that God would give me some time and that He would let this first child be a girl because I just wasn't ready to raise a little man.  This is not to suggest that raising a daughter is any easier than raising a son -- some would argue the contrary -- but I felt I was ready to protect a baby girl and to teach her what to look for in a husband one day and spoil her and ensure that she had a positive self-esteem; however, I just didn't feel ready to raise a little man.  Perhaps my greatest concern was feeling I was unprepared because of all of the manly things I had missed out on as a child -- sports and auto mechanics and building trades class -- you know, all of the stereotypical man kind of stuff.  In school, I had opted for all things academic and non-athletic extracurricular.  While I had grown up very self-confident and assured of God's hand being on my life, I wasn't sure that that would be the path a son of mine would select. I asked myself, would I be prepared to shape a boy who chose a different path from my own?

Well, as God would have it, I got my reprieve. On a snowy January morning, after 2 am, with 4 inches of snow paralyzing our nation's capital, our first born child, Gabrielle Jean-Marie Hardin, was born...6 pounds, 5 ounces with straight black hair.  Gabbi came into the world looking around and taking everything in.  She stole my heart with that first glance.

Our son, Paul II, affectionately known as Dude, would be born fifteen months later in my hometown of Orange, Texas, 3 ounces lighter than Gabbi, but just as precocious and ready to take on the world.  Quiet with an occasional cry that his mother said was made for television, Dude was my little man, my namesake and my minime.

Let's not forget, Alexandra, aka Allie, who was born three years later, ready to rule the roost from day one.  She has always felt entitled to get into people's personal space, touching every part of the person's face who happened to be holding her. She broke our two-child streak of "docile and automatically compliant".  Allie considers her way the obvious best way for everything.  I wonder where she got that quality...

All of our children have distinct personalities, but what I have learned is that they are impressionable, blank slates of wet clay, ready for the writer's quill.  They have blind faith that their mother and I will meet all of their needs and protect them.  They take for granted that we love them and have a healthy sense of positive entitlement (all the traits we should have toward our Heavenly Father).  Having learned the "alphabet song" and the "Our Father" prayer by their first birthdays, they have grown up with an affinity for words, both spoken and written.  While they clearly have their own unique destinies, what I have found is that they are in so many ways the products of the nurturing environment Claudia and I have created for them no matter what adversities we may have faced in one season or another.

Here are three of my take-aways from this journey of fatherhood so far:

1.  Fatherhood is more about being than doing -- just being a constant presense in their lives means more than anything I could give them, and I find that "being there" provides me with ample opportunities for "doing" things that impact them profoundly.

2.  Literacy starts from day one with intentional exposure to words, written and spoken.  Children are like sponges.  It is never too early to speak to them in complete sentences and with a broad variety of words.  They will amaze you with their comprehension and application of words if you just talk to them from day one.  I highly recommend nightly prayers and the alphabet song as a lullaby from their first day.

3.  Fatherhood is an "on the job" training experience.  Many fathers may check out because they allow their fears of what they don't know to get the best of them.  Get this:  THEY DON'T KNOW THAT YOU DON'T KNOW!!!   Fake it 'til you make it!!  Read, talk to other fathers, use trial and error -- JUST DON'T QUIT.  Your children will adore you for it.

My greatest joy and pride come from my children looking up to me with loving eyes as they call me "Daddy".

Bishop Paul A. Hardin