Some days beg to be loved.  They cry out for our attention like daughters doing cartwheels on the living room carpet.  These days where clouds bow out, waving cape and giving way theatrically to cerulean blue sky.  Late October days, the beginning of sweater season, when Asian-friendly eyes get kite envy.

There's this line of first graders, mostly girls, in my daughter's classroom–just waiting…to give Anna hugs.  As they ringed around her to wrap small arms around her shoulders, it felt like they'd been waiting there for her for days.  It had been days; an ear infection grounded Anna for half a week. With certain people half a week is long enough to be really missed.  I don't remember being missed like that in 1st grade, but today I felt it.  As Anna gave herself over to each embrace the whole world was hugging me.  I was a toddler again, blissfully perched on a carpenter's knee.

The days that really woo you are the ones with unexpected goodness. 

Maybe it's the tree, aflame in amber, willing the season's processional from the bank parking lot. 

Or it's the new acquaintance you met over coffee whose heart is so much bigger than his culture.  He and his wife went all the way to India (never been there before) to meet this little girl he's been sponsoring for many years.  His reason for going, he knew he had to do it, was because this impoverished girl wrote to him and told him he was like a father to her.  And meeting her finally, the experience of it all changes him and his wife.

He can't stop there.  No, because some days beg to be loved.  So he begins sponsoring the girl's little brother, too.  He visits India a second time and comes back to America completely ruined for the ordinary.  He asks questions like, "How can I use my business skills to change the world?" "How can life be devoted to missions within the parameters I've been given in the 9 to 5?"  And God loves to answer questions like that.  Having a coffee has transcended into something else entirely…

The days that love to be loved–so seldom realized.  The ones you'd like to hold on your lap purring like a sleeping kitten.  These days end with you feeling younger than the day before.  Tucked into bed, my wife handed me this picture…

And just who are these kids, anyway?  Christa-present had been sorting through and reading old love letters (from me, of course) and she fell upon this snapshot of our former selves- Todd & Christa-past.  Just nine years ago.  A blink ago.  So wrinkle-free and well-rested.  Starry-eyed and sun-tanned.  And wouldn't I like to crawl into this picture, pop down the hall, and put a wizened hand on the shoulders of these two whipper-snappers.  I'd have some sage advice to give.  I'd tell them things that would blow their minds.  Like Marty McFly on the loose, I'd pack them both in my DeLorean and we'd cruise around time together.

Not all days end like this.  Not all days start with five-year old feet pinwheeling across linoleum to pounce expectantly on your bed.  Under the covers, this tiny frame, exploding with energy, curiosity, and precociousness, gathers the warmth of her furry father.  Without warning she yells, "It's time to wake up, Dad!" right in his ear.  And who can resist it.  When days like this send you an invitation, what recourse do you have but to wake, to partake, to surrender to the good.

Like a violinist playing her concerto on a street corner, hat upturned, some days just beg to be loved.  I'm learning the importance of carrying change.