Thursday, September 29, 2005


She has deep, dark brown eyes, almost too large for her face. To use a Randian term, she has a marvelous "sense of life," and clearly is not afraid of or likely to be afraid of life.

On the soccer field, instead of running after the ball, she skips after the ball. Most of the other girls run after the ball with reckless abandon, in complete disregard for the rules or tactics that (I assume) are germane to the game. Skipping in the general direction of the crowd, she is merrily ensconced in the back half of the ball swarm, occasionally looking my way. Her cheeks get inordinately flushed with her continued exertion, and that is another shared family trait. I consider it a very good sign that she skips rather than runs.

My daughter is an "influence," along the lines of the other influences I have written about, because life (and faith) is more akin to gestalt--and less linear--than we tend to think. I, for one, cannot watch my daughter skip around a soccer field without thinking just a little bit of God, and specifically, the love of God that brought her into this world.

This anecdote is an experience. I admit it is not an argument. But sometimes the accumulation of experiences can gradually turn into an argument, the same way an overburdened helicopter slowly struggles to lift off the ground. As with the helicopter, once airborne, the flight involved becomes surprisingly smooth. The view gets better and better.

My daughter influences me because she she reminds me of this blessing.