Here's a story for ya!

Let's go back about two months...

It was my birthday, my 22nd of birthdays to be exact. On this day, omelets were eaten and kisses were given. Little baby toes were tickled, and we were off! Silly appointments that last

4 agonizing hours, phone calls from family, an anxiety attack (that one moment when I

realized that the next day would be Matthias' first day back to work, and my very first day home alone, being the stay at home mom all by myself, and I became very scared. For good reason, no?) oh, and a big ole' plate of food at Olive Garden.

My first birthday as a Mama.

But right smack dab in the middle of all that Birthday nonsense, was the sweet old man in

the leather cap. A leather cap just like my own sweet Grandpa wears.

Come, come. Sit. Let me tell you the story.

I was sitting in my seat at Chic-Fil-A, minding my own beeswax and devouring my fruity chicken salad and brownie sundae, when I saw him. About ten feet away, he was standing in line, and he looked over at us. He stared at my little Addi, sleeping sweetly in her car seat, and the

biggest grin spread across his tired, weathered face.

"Now, how old is that sweet lil' baby?" He asked, in the kindest of Southern accents.

"'Bout 9 days." My husband answered.

Then the man smiled even brighter and he said, "Oh, you're in for some good years."

I felt the twinge in my chest, and the tears were instant. I tried to contain myself while staring quickly from my husband's eyes, down to my salad, then back up and down again.

I have no idea why, but with that one simple statement from that one simple stranger, my whole world became focused and my heart grew wings.

Maybe it was the postpartum hormones, maybe it was my undying love for all old men everywhere, maybe it was the fact that he was so very sweet and old, or maybe it was the realization that this little girl is ours and we get to watch her grow big... Maybe it was some of everything. I wanted to run over to him, thank him for his words (and for being the cutest old man I ever did see!) and kiss him right on his wrinkly forehead.

We said thank you, wished him a good day, and continued our meals. But inside, I was singing.

My heart was crying and singing and laughing all at once.

At nine days old, I felt the overwhelming sense of pride in my daughter, for the very first time.

This one's for you, sweet old man with the leather cap at Chic-Fil-A.

God bless you and your big, full heart! You made my day.

...We're in for some good years...