I have not had coffee once today, NOT ONCE. I am waiting for Redding to ice over in this very second. Not that Redding is hell, obviously. It’s just a hot place. I crafted an original analogy apart from the original just to prove to my reader that JUST BECAUSE I don’t have caffeine does NOT mean my mind is mush. No, Siree. I can do this. I need to think a little today. Never mind that I keep succumbing to caffeine-binge induced narcolepsy and plowing my head into the keyboard rfgsdfgrtgsrhrthrjfoikujhgfddhgdjkljghfdfgfrtghtuyjukukukukukbfgf….errrrr, sorry.
Bad joke, I know.
Tomorrow is Father’s Day. I wanted to entitle this blog, and I may still, “Things my Father Taught Me,” and then blow you all away with my sardonic bitterness. Here's a sampling: NOTHING, he taught me NOTHING because he was never there and if I am honest, I do not know him one bit. I have a couple things I’ve conjured up in my head out of the heart’s necessity to attach something to the guy, but I can tell you only a couple of things. He liked to write (Thanks for that insight, Mom!), he played music like a dream (Thanks, Grandma!), and apparently he liked to eat liver mush (Thanks to his parents I’ve met twice in my life!). I have actually, mostly, come to terms with not knowing my dad. He died when I was 17, and now I’ll never know him. When I get to Heaven, I will, but let’s face it: All of you who have lost someone dear, does that little over-stated one liner ever bring you comfort? It doesn’t to me, because I’m selfish. Having him here now would be nice, thank you.
I’m in a weird mood tonight. Probably because I despise being sick. And for as long as I can remember, I have despised Father’s Day. Not that father’s shouldn’t get a day to be celebrated for all of their sacrifices, but why do I have to share in it? I really don’t want to. Usually I celebrate the country’s momentous day with lots of cake and bitterness. “Eat Brownies and Cry Day.”
Now I am married and I am forced into the occasion. It’s not hard for me though because I am married to a really great father. This may sound a little creepy, but I have often found myself trying to get a father’s blessing from my husband. I mean, why not? He’s a good man, he loves me, and he‘s a great dad. It’s not really his role in my life, but sometimes it’s just too easy. I hear the desperation in my voice, a quivering sentence wrought with neediness, “When I sang Jesus Loves Me to the kids tonight, did I sound like a drunk caveman, or were you proud that I was yours?” [That exact example has never happened. Duh. I would never compare myself to a drunk caveman]. It’s like I can’t help it, though. I just have to know, “Am I enough?” From what I’ve read, in all of the orphan literature I’ve acquired over the years, it’s pretty normal how I feel. Because women need to know, from a man, that they are precious in every way. There have been plenty of convincing stand ins, ones that I love dearly. But you can never underestimate the real thing. Trust me.
So when I say that my Dad taught me nothing, it’s not really true. He taught me what a divine privilege it is to have a father. Because no matter how much self-induced inner healing I drag my heart into, the fact that I love Father God and feel whole and loved in His sight does not change the fact that this fatherless thing hurts. Especially on Father’s Day, when the red carpet is rolled out to the father’s that stuck around and invested time in their little angels, and my dad is not welcome there. And I wouldn’t invite him.
By the way, I feel like I am being a little unfair to Stephen, here. That’s my dad. He lived a life of misfortune and despair, forced into foster care, and adopted by a loving family that probably arrived a little late to the scene. He turned to drugs to fill his void, and it was this substitute for living life that swallowed his up. I have forgiven Stephen, honestly. I do love him, and I don't take lightly that one day he and I will get to know one another in Heaven. Eat Brownies an…I mean, Father’s Day should be good tomorrow.
It’ll be good because I get to celebrate with my kids, and celebrate their dad. I celebrate Paul, first, and then, redemption. That though I never knew what it was like to have a father stroke my brow and call me his favorite princess, Sonora receives that treatment every day. And Jake tells me that soon he will be “big like Daddy.” There is a lot of favor for the fatherless in the Bible, and I can feel it. Part of what has helped me heal is that I married a family man. I have Paul. We get to give him a gift tomorrow, make him a dessert (well, that depends how I’m feeling. Now, a stove by the toilet would be convenient…), and tell him what he means to us. And I hope he knows that when I thank him from the bottom of my heart, and when I tell him that our family wouldn’t be the same without him-I wouldn’t be the same without him, I know. I do not underestimate for a second the value of a good daddy. Oh, and I am so grateful.
Paul, you are amazing. Thank you all that you do for our children, how tirelessly you work that they would one day look back and see your fingerprints smeared all over their childhood, from top to bottom. A glorious, irrevocable mess of memories that they will treasure for the rest of their lives. You are the father I always dreamed of having for myself, and for my children. Of course, you know your role in their lives well, and in mine. But I am grateful for the occasional pat on the back, slap on the knee while we're riding down the road, and the declarations you whisper over the sad little girl that surfaces in me from time to time, “I am proud of you, keep dreaming.” You have always pointed me to my real Father’s heart, which has aided in healing my own. I love you.
--I have to add, though this is an addendum to the original, that I have Dave. That is my step-dad. He and my mom married when I was in 5th grade I believe, and were together even years before. Earlier I used the term "convincing stand-ins" and I meant Dave as one of them. He was a great father figure to me and I meant no offense in leaving him out. Some of the things I have found myself "jealous" for--can I be honest? I am jealous. I am jealous that some girls my age still call their daddies to chat. They go on dates together, just them. Dave and I don't have that sort of relationship, but that doesn't mean we won't ever. When a girl's daddy runs out, it takes a lot to build trust. It takes a lot to bring walls down. A lot. My husband is still working on it. Dave has been carefully building a foundation of trust since he married my mom many years ago. He has never been late for picking me up from school, he has continuously picked up my slack when I would forget permission slips, lunches, and backpacks. He took me to school every morning for nearly 10 years. He scraped ice off my windshields after icy nights when I'd have to get to work the next morning, but not before warming my car up. He took me to work and school when it was storming or icy out so I wouldn't drive in bad conditions. For the last two years in particular I have been kind of hounding myself over my relationship with Dave, because I love him and I have almost felt ready to call him "Dad." It's the truth. I just feel like it would be unfair for me to die and never have gotten to use that word on somebody, particularly someone who deserves it. I feel like he does. But I am on a journey of putting away the hurt I've felt from my own dad, and in that process, allowing myself to get closer to Dave in a way that is beyond step-parent. I am sure many of you protested to me on behalf of my mom, who may have been offended that I left Dave out. Yes, he was part of the redemption in my life. He definitely was. But I think Dave has understood this process I am in, and has been patient and kind all along. He has never asked more from me than I can give. Right now, and even then, he would have always been willing to be my "daddy." But I would not have it. Not until I made my dad serve penance for what he did to my heart by leaving. Dave and I are on a journey, and I am grateful that he understands that. I look forward to knowing Dave more deeply as I age, and as the Lord heals my heart. That is what I want. Something deep, personal, and lasting.--
The greatest beauty of it all is that if you were to ask Paul why and how he has become a good father (Ok, honestly, a FANTASTIC father) he would tell you it was because he had one who showed him the way. It’s God’s design, everyone. God’s beautiful design.
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| Paul and Jake, Father's Day 2011 |
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| Daddy and his wild thang princess (I fought for that nickname, but Sonora has taken it fair) |
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| The only existing picture I have of Daddy and Cori, who is the 3rd child, if you couldn't guess that by the fact that the only picture I have of her and daddy is at birth. |
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| One of the worst sick days of our lives. All three of these guys running fevers in a house with no electricity. Daddy shines really bright in tough situations...I think we'll keep him! |
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| And just to discredit my unnecessary sarcasm, one day Stephen and I will meet in Heaven and it will be glorious. He'll play guitar for me, and we'll worship God together. It will definitely make up for all the Father's Day[s] he has missed! |
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