God is close. So close. I forget easily given in to material distractions both trivial and necessary. But when I look upon my newborn son's face I can almost see what God has in mind for this world. James may have my lips and Lynette's nose, but his soul came from God. And I feel terribly humbled that something I made can act as a vessel for such a precious thing.
When I look at James' face I can't help but ponder mortality, spirituality, goodness, love, and the universe, all spinning and twisting together like a chaotic recipe for the most delicious cookies in the darkest, messiest kitchen. Follow your nose, James. Follow your nose.