Tim Ellsworth

Dear Daniel,

By the time you’re old enough to get married, there’s no telling what the state of marriage will be. It’s already pretty shabby. I was reminded of that this weekend, when I read that Atlanta Braves pitcher John Smoltz and his wife are divorcing after 16 years of marriage. They have four kids, for whom I feel terrible.

I don’t know any of the details about their situation, so I don’t know if the divorce is scripturally justified or not. But I do know that far too many Christians are failures at marriage because they buy into the lies that society feeds them. And it doesn’t have to be that way.

Fortunately, the Lord has been gracious to me and your mom. Although our marriage isn’t perfect, as she and I are both sinners, I’d say it’s pretty good. She is a precious treasure more valuable than I deserve, and for that I am thankful.

And even if our marriage weren’t as strong as it is, we’re committed to it for the rest of our lives. As I once heard Christian recording artist Wayne Watson say, he and his wife took comfort in four simple words during turbulent times in their relationship: There’s no way out.

So, as you’ll most likely be heading down the path of matrimony yourself in a few years, here’s a little advice that I hope will be helpful.

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Dear Daniel,

Every night about supper time, you ask me the same question.

“Daddy, can we take the puppy dogs for a walk?”

“Sure,” I reply.

“To Union?” you’ll ask.

“Yeah, I think we can do that tonight,” I might say.

And typically, not long after supper, we’re heading down the road in our little red truck, with two dogs panting and pacing in the back.

It’s a question I expect to get from you every day, because walking the dogs is one of your favorite things to do. In fact, I think you enjoy walking the dogs with me more than anything else. I have to admit, the feeling is mutual. And Suzy and Gus are always happy to accommodate, too.

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Dear Daniel,

Tonight, for the last time, I put you to bed as an only child.

Tomorrow is the day we’ve been anticipating for the past several months. Your baby brother or sister (we don’t know which one yet) will be joining our family. It’s an exciting time for all of us.

We’ve been trying to prepare you for this day for a while now. We’ve been telling you that we’re having a baby, and you’ve been observing a lot of changes in the house. You’ve watched us carry in diapers en masse. You’ve seen the nursery taking shape. You’ve noticed us bringing down some of your old baby toys from the attic. You’ve witnessed mom’s belly getting bigger. You’ve repeatedly asked, “Is your baby moving, mommy?”

Tomorrow is the culmination of all that. A new life, another precious treasure from God, will finally be here. I still can’t believe it’s been more than three years since we went through all of this with you.

I talked to you about some of these things again tonight as I tucked you into bed. I told you that things will be changing around here. I talked about how mommy will be in the hospital for a few days, and when she gets home how you’ll need to be a good helper to her. I told you how, as a big brother, it will be your job to look out for and protect your baby brother or sister, and how you’ll have so many things to teach him or her as your sibling grows up.

And I reminded you how much I loved you, and always will.

I don’t pretend to understand what’s going on in the mind and the emotions of a 3-year-old. I’ve heard of some children who make transitions like this seamlessly. For others, it poses more problems. After all, for a child used to being the center of attention, I can see how it might be difficult to share your time with mom and dad with someone else. I have no idea how fully you understand what’s taking place, and I don’t know how you’ll respond.

Regardless, I pray that you’ll grow to love your baby brother or baby sister with a love that will last the rest of your life. I can already imagine all the laughs the baby will provide for all of us, you included. You’ll have many happy memories of these years you’ll spend growing up together.

Though it might take some adjustments at first, I have every confidence that the baby will only enhance all of our lives. And even though there will be a new child for your mom and me to love, that will never diminish the depth of our love for you.

I’m praying that God will be gracious to you and help you through these changing days. So get ready, little buddy. Life is about to get a lot more interesting.

Love always,

Dad

My column this week is a letter to my son about some true all-stars.

Dear Daniel,

I recently read a new book by Dorothy Ours in which she writes about a race horse named Fair Play. He was a fine thoroughbred in the early 1900s – one of the best in the United States at the time, although he never was able to beat his archrival, Colin.

Fair Play’s owner, August Belmont, took him to England once to match him against some of the best horses in the world. But Fair Play didn’t fare well on British soil. He grew more and more foul-tempered while in England and in six races never finished in the top three.

Fair Play never achieved lasting fame on the track. After the unsuccessful jaunt to England, his racing career was over – but Fair Play wasn’t finished as a horse. He returned home to Kentucky, and in what I thought was the most memorable line of the book, Ours writes, “There he would father a colt more brilliant than himself.”

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My column this week is a “Dear Daniel” letter about minor league baseball and being like Jesus.

My column this week is about Tony Dungy and the tragedy his family has endured with the suicide of his 18-year-old son, James.

Dear Daniel,

Your love for sports seems to be growing each day. “Baseball” is a now regular part of your vocabulary, as are “bat,” “football,” “game” and “soccer.”

If I’m watching a game on TV, you suddenly become interested. And you’re sharp enough to know exactly what sport I’m watching, too. When we go for a walk in the evening, you often carry your mini-basketball with you. You certainly are your father’s son.

One of the nice things about working at a college is the number of sporting events I can attend for free, and over the past two or three weeks you’ve gone with me to two basketball games and two soccer games. Your mom is always willing to go to such events with me, which I appreciate, but I think she only tolerates them for my benefit.

Finish reading the letter here.

September 16, 2005

Dear Daniel,

Sometimes it’s the small things in life — like rocks — that bring us the most joy.

I’m in Slidell, La., tonight, covering some stories about Hurricane Katrina and its aftermath. The Gulf region down here is in shambles. The fierce hurricane winds blew down countless trees, many of them smashing houses and cars as they fell. Traffic has been a nightmare. Thousands of people are without homes. And I have yet to see the worst of Katrina’s destruction.

All evening I’ve been listening to stories about how the hurricane has affected people, and sometimes it gets depressing. The magnitude of the damage is colossal, and I sympathize for so many people who have lost everything they owned. Some of them have even lost loved ones. It truly is a tragedy that will affect this country for years.

As I was getting ready to go to sleep, I reached into the pockets of my shorts to pull out my keys – but also felt something else. Out of my pocket I pulled a rock. Just a rock, some might think. There are millions of them in the world. No big deal.

But this rock is a special rock, because a special boy gave it to me. The other night when we were out walking the dogs, you stopped as you often do to explore the grass, the flowers, the trash, the bugs, the leaves, the dirt and whatever else you might find on the ground. You picked up a rock and headed straight for me – “Here daddy. Here daddy,” you said.

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My most recent column is a letter to my son about some of my memories of Busch Stadium. He’ll never have the memories of the place I do, but in the new stadium to open in St. Louis next year we’ll be able to start making new memories together.

August 27, 2005

Dear Daniel,

Today was Freshman Move-In Day on campus. This morning I helped a lot of new students move their stuff into their dorm rooms, and this evening I went to a worship service on campus for all of the incoming freshmen and their parents.

After the service is when the families say their emotional goodbyes to one another. As I was leaving the service tonight, I ran into the Hays family, who I met earlier this summer. I had the privilege of being in their house and visiting with their son Josh, who is now a freshman at Union.

Like most parents, I’m sure Tom and Debbie Hays are struggling with Josh moving away from home. He’s their oldest son, so it’s the first time they’ve had to experience this. But Josh’s 10-year-old brother Lucas was having an especially difficult time with his older brother leaving for college. As I stood there talking to the family, tears were freely rolling down young Lucas’ face. Lucas has a big heart and loves his big brother, and he’s going to miss him. It broke my heart to see how upset Lucas was, and I had to fight back the tears myself.

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August 10, 2005

Dear Daniel,

I’m riding on a train up to Chicago, where I’m going to watch the Cardinals and Cubs for the next three days. Baptist Press is sending me to do a collection of feature stories surrounding one of the greatest rivalries in baseball.

It’s the first time I’ve ever ridden a train for a trip like this, and I’m really enjoying it. Flying always seems so stressful, while riding the train is much more relaxing. Plus, it gives me more time to catch up on some reading and writing.

It also gives me a chance to sit back and watch the state of Illinois pass by my window, and it makes me a little homesick for my home state. We don’t live in Illinois anymore, and you may never know the state as home in the way I have.

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August 6, 2005

Dear Daniel,

Your first words to me this morning were “Do Dah’s!” That’s the name of the donut place where I take you most Saturday mornings. You had just awakened this morning and I had walked into your room to get you out of bed. You looked up at me, smiled, and said, “Do Dah’s!”

I don’t know how you knew it was Saturday morning. Maybe it was the way I was dressed. But somehow you knew, and you were all excited about going to get donuts. I wasn’t able to take you there today, though, because I was meeting an out-of-town friend for breakfast and had another engagement this morning as well. We’ll try to go tomorrow morning before church.

You and I had a lot of fun together today. I read you several books. We worked on your numbers and your ABC’s. We put puzzles together and wrestled on the bed and on the couch.

One of our games involves your toy fishing rod with a magnet on the end. I’ll pick up one of your magnetic fish, and then you try to knock it off. I’ll dangle it in front of you and pull it out of your reach. You’ll jump around and turn in circles trying to knock the fish off, laughing so hard the entire time. It makes me laugh, too.

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NOTE: My wife and son have been gone this week, visiting her parents in Nashville. I’ll spend the night there tonight on my way to Atlanta for the weekend. Below is a letter I wrote in to Daniel in December when he and Sarah were visiting family in Illinois.

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December 7, 2004

Dear Daniel,

You’ll finally be home today. You and your mom have been back in Illinois the past week for a visit. While I’m sure your Grandpa and Grandma Ellsworth enjoyed having you around, I’ve missed you (and your mom). I’m excited about seeing you tonight.

The house just isn’t the same without you around. You bring so much joy to our home that it’s hard to think about what it was like without you. Although the house is certainly quieter when you’re not there, it’s an empty quiet. Your constant talking and laughing always brighten up my day, and your presence gives me something to look forward to each night.

I’m also excited about tonight because we’ll decorate our Christmas tree. Last year you were too young to be too involved in the process, but I imagine it will be different this year. You’ll probably enjoy seeing the lights on the tree and all the unusual ornaments – especially those with dogs on them.

Decorating the Christmas tree was a big deal when I was a kid. Even the dogs got excited when we brought the tree inside. We got a “real” Christmas tree every year — no fake trees at our house. Mom would string the lights, then your Uncle Marty and I would help her put on the ornaments. Dad always had to position a certain elf near the top of the tree. All the while, Christmas music played in the background.

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July 25, 2005

Dear Daniel,

Yesterday your Sunday School teacher told us you were like the mascot of the Sunday School class. By that, she meant that all the kids in the class like you so much that they want you to join in whatever it is they’re doing: “Come on, Daniel.” “Over here, Daniel.”

That description brought a smile to my face. Since many of those kids are older than you, I’m glad to know they think so highly of you. You have a sweet, reserved personality, especially around other people. You never give any of your teachers or nursery workers a problem, and I’m thankful for that. Let’s hope and pray that continues for many years to come.

Today you and your mom left to visit your Papaw and Mamaw Lyon for a few days. I hope you have a good time playing with them and with your cousins, who are also there for a visit. Don’t let Papaw turn you into a Kentucky fan. I’ll miss you while you’re gone and look forward to seeing you later this week.

Love always,

Dad