Tag Archives: fathers

Father’s Day Hangover

Sunday was Father’s Day. A thousand times I thought of writing this post, then stopped.

Just let the day pass quietly, I thought to myself. You’re not unlike millions of others who don’t like this day. Just get it over with and move on already.

Then it dawned on me that it is because so many of us share the same feelings about Father’s Day that I decided to post.

Fast-forwarding through the dramatic story of an unstable, fear-filled, anxiety-ridden childhood, here I sit as a wife of twenty-five years and mom to three teenagers. I glance back at my life and think about how some dreams became reality just like I had hoped – and others haven’t.

The father thing being a big one.

My stepfather walked out of our house and out of my life when I was twelve. It was the first time I felt safe in my own home.

My biological father and mother divorced when I was a baby. I met him when I was twelve, spent two weeks with him and his family when I was thirteen, then proceeded to have years of anger, bitterness and all things negative toward him long after I buried my mom when I was sixteen.

As a grown adult I told him, You can be a grandfather to my children, but not a father to me.

In my world, I had no use for a father. None. Fathers were unreliable.

Unloving.

Selfish.

Unkind.

Scary.

Hurtful.

Monsters.

Mean.

Promise-breakers.

Unpredictable.

Unsafe.

Over-powering.

Aloof.

Unstable.

Untrustworthy.

Liars.

Fronters.

Self-serving.

Forgetful.

Stingy.

Inconsiderate.

They were the bad guy.

I know what it’s like to live with the enemy while wishing for a hero to rescue me.

I also know what it’s like when that hero doesn’t come.

Yeah, my whole life I’ve had no use for fathers.

To give credit where it is due, God performed a miracle between my biological father and me. There was an unspoken truce between us, but no healing. That’s when I told him about not being a father to me. After all, I was far too old to be his little girl. That window closed a long time ago.

However, on one particular visit to our home, my father, his wife and I talked deep into the night. We agreed on one thing – we can’t do this relationship on our own. We’re too emotional. Too human. We kept getting in the way of ourselves.

So we prayed together and gave whatever relationship we had to God and asked him to be the foundation of something new between us.

Like a master surgeon, God healed our hearts. We had eight great years together before my dad died from cancer.

I often think to myself, If I had to choose between eight great years, or a lifetime of surface-level mediocrity, I’m thankful I got eight great years. Many people never get that with their fathers.

The day before he died, I sat at his bedside in the hospital and got to tell him that I loved him. Not everyone gets that opportunity. I am grateful.

But here’s the thing, Father’s Day never gets easier. More than a day on a calendar and endless greeting cards about tools and grilling and ties, this father thing is really hard with God.

This past Sunday, while responding to a text message I typed God, but my phone auto-corrected it to dad. That has never happened before, and I thought it was very ironic it happened on Father’s Day. My heart skipped a nervous beat.

My mom once gave my grandfather a plaque that read, “Anyone can be a father, but it takes someone special to be a daddy.” Que sweaty palms over Siri’s mistake.

The Bible tells us over and over that God is our Good Father, Heavenly Father, Abba Father.

That’s like telling me, Sure, the last time you touched fire it was hot and burned you, but this fire is different, it won’t burn you. 

Seriously?

Fire is fire, right?

Fathers are fathers, right?

What’s more frustrating is that I totally know better. I have been walking with God since I was fourteen and have loved him since I was a little girl.

I should get it by now.

Hence, the feelings of self-imposed guilt drive a wedge deeper between God and me.

I am so sorry for the times I have said, in not so many words, the same thing to God that I did to my biological father, You can be a Father to my children, but not to me.

You can be Savior, Healer, Deliverer, Potter, Friend, Provider, Redeemer, Rock, Refuge, and my God. But Father? Here comes the list I named above of just some of my opinions about fathers.

I desperately don’t want to lump God into any of that because I know it’s not true. But my heart stings, even all these years later, over the topic of fathers and to avoid insulting God I exclude him from it.

Then Father’s Day comes around again and here comes the plethora of Facebook posts. Ug.

It seems everyone else has the best father in the world!

I tried. I really tried to be happy for them. I “liked” throwback photos of daddies and children (now my grown friends) doing all kinds of fun things together.

I “liked” heartfelt, borderline poetic, sentiments from my friends to their dads.

Scrolling, scrolling, scrolling I finally couldn’t take it anymore. I literally felt sick to my stomach. I couldn’t look at one more smiley photo of warm embraces or read one more post about all of the unconditional love and support their fathers gave them.

My toes inched dangerously close to a line I try not to cross – the why me line.

I really try to live my life thankful for each day and for all of the blessings I have been given. But, never having a healthy father-child relationship messes children up.

Contrary to what this broken society wants people to believe, there are lifelong repercussions for children whose fathers walked away from their families or never showed up in the first place.

I’m not talking about illness and death and things out of people’s control. Rather fathers who choose to not engage in their children’s lives, even if they share the same home address.

Silence is deafening. Absence is suffocating. A lack of effort on a father’s part is like a sucker-punch to a child’s gut – to matter their age. Rejection from a father, spoken or not, intentional or the result of a lack of words or action, is indescribable.

We were created for family. It’s how God designed this world to keep spinning. And fathers have a unique role that fills a unique place in a child’s heart.

When that hole doesn’t get filled, children look for other things to fill it.

It must be filled.

For me, after realizing nothing tangible in this world can fill it, I looked to God. But again, that’s where I start blurring the line and transpose everything I feel about human fathers onto God and the next thing I know I’m running from him, too.

I read blogs that have happy endings, or at least an end with some amount of closure.

This one is open-ended. It seems a bit depressing because we’re used to life’s biggest problems being solved in a thirty-minute sitcom.

But life is more than splices of thirty minutes and there certainly isn’t a laugh track to fill in the awkward pauses.

I’m just saying that Father’s Day is hard. Seeing God as my Good Father is hard. I don’t have this figured out yet and feel I’m not alone in the journey.

The days since Sunday seem to pass in slow motion. I’m hard on myself for not having this all figured out after so long. I’m jealous of those who have had great relationships with their fathers. It leaves a gnawing in my heart and a pit in my stomach that is only relieved by the thought that it’s over for another year and the hope that by next year I’ll be different, changed, healed.

I resist the pessimist in me which reminds me that hasn’t happened yet.

In the meantime, I intentionally stay open to the truth that God is my Good Father. I choose to not have a hard heart toward him. I continue to learn about him and his character.

Mostly, I daily rely on his mercy and grace and understanding as I wander through this desert.

Deep down, past the walls and barriers and fortresses I have locked my heart behind, I know God is the opposite from the list above. But believing it and living it out are two different things.

With everything God is to me, and knowing he is who he is despite what I may feel, a flicker of hope remains in my heart that one day I will fully accept him as my Good Father.

Through it all, I am forever grateful he unconditionally accepts me as his child.

Because of the Lord’s great love we are not consumed, for his compassions never fail. They are new every morning; great is your faithfulness. Lamentations 3:22-23

A father to the fatherless, a defender of widows, is God in his holy dwelling. ~ Psalm 68:5

 

Photo source here

10 Thank You’s

At the beginning of the school year, my youngest had an interesting school assignment.  He had to tell something about his life using the numbers 1-10.  Pretty cool!

As we near Thanksgiving, I’d like to share ten things about life I am thankful for using the numbers 1-10.

#10 – My great-grandmother gave me, for my 10th birthday, a 110 Instamatic camera.  As soon as I held it, I was hooked for life.  Someone once told me photography is my voice to the world.  Nailed it!  Although my cameras have changed over the years, it’s been an unending love affair ever since.

#9 –  God has richly blessed my life with nine fantastic girlfriends.  These are women I deeply admire and respect.  They are funny, smart, godly, and irreplaceable.  They are women who I know I can call anytime of day for anything – and they me.  We laugh till it hurts, pray for and with each other, and love sharing life together.  They never cease to amaze me with the bottomless love, grace and mercy they weave into their lives.  I want to be like them when I grow up!  We may have many friends and acquaintances, but I am spoiled with these nine women who generously let me in their worlds and love me back.  You know who you are!

#8 –  This Thanksgiving I am thankful for eight years with my dad.  With his permission, I published a devotion about our story (click here) , and today I find myself sitting here thinking about him.  This will be the first Thanksgiving since he died last December.  This time last fall, we were traveling back and forth almost every weekend crossing state lines to visit him in the hospital.  Every time we went, he was a little weaker.  On the fifth trip, we received the call to hurry and say goodbye, and so we dropped everything and went.  I am so glad we did.  When I was in his hospital room, a different kind of sadness overtook my heart.  It seems most people have a hard time letting go of a loved one because of how much history they share and how deeply they have loved.  I found myself mourning not what we had, but what we won’t have.  Over the past year, I have mourned the lack of a future together rather than a past.  Our history involved decades of silence and hurt.  But, once we reconciled, with Christ as our mediator, we got 8 great years together.  Driving home from saying goodbye to him for the final time, I said to Bruce, Life is messy.  People aren’t perfect, but many people live their whole lives with family only on the surface level.  Ray and I may have only had 8 years together, but they were deep.  I would have rather had 8 years of fulling loving each other than a lifetime of staying merely relatives.  I miss him a lot.  I continue to miss what we won’t get to have this side of heaven.  But, I look forward to the day I will see him again – cancer free – and this time we have eternity to look forward to spending together.  No more goodbyes.

#7 – My family is blessed to spend Thanksgiving with seven family members, in addition to our party of five, this year.  We love our extended family and cherish the tradition of getting together.  Cousins, grandmother, uncles, aunts, and in-laws – we have a great time together!  We are blessed that everyone gets along great and is as excited as we are to be together.  The family game of football, Black Friday shopping, and leftover turkey sandwiches are great times, but it’s an extra blessing to be with people who share life together not just on the holidays.  Although we all live in different places, we have so much in common.  Whether it be old memories of times we’ve shared or fond stories about people we miss, no one understands it like those who lived it, too.  I am very thankful for the blessing of family.

#6 – My dog turned six this year.  She is my 4th child.  Although I’ve had pets all my life, I always dreamed of a dog who wanted to be with me.  A dog I can let off the leash and not worry about her running away because she actually wants to stay with me.  This is my dog.  She is my shadow, my friend.  Yesterday, she had some oral surgery leaving her very sore and quite loopy from the anesthesia.  When we got home from the vet, she followed behind me making the most pitiful moans and groans.  I thought she was hungry because of the fast for surgery so I gave her a small amount of food.  She ate it all up, but followed me still.  I caved in and gave her more.  Gobbled it up, but followed me still.  She stood at my feet while I washed dishes in the kitchen, begging with her glassy eyes and shaved I.V. leg.  I remembered her favorite treats, so I cut up a couple really small.  She loved them, but returned under foot.  She had such a longing in her eyes.  I turned off the faucet, looked at her and said, I don’t know what you want?  What it is?  She cocked her head to the side like she usually does when trying to tell me something.  We have this special bond, and it was in that moment I said, Do you just want me?  She cocked her head again and raised her paw to me.  So, I left the kitchen and sat down on the couch.  She jumped up on my lap and snuggled down.  Within just a minute or two, she was fast asleep in my arms.  Content.  Comfortable.  Loved.

#5 – God hand-picked five incredible people to be a part of my life – through an unusual way.  Three of them (plus a brother in-law!) come by way of my dad’s third marriage.  I have two step-sisters and one step-brother.  From the day I first met them when I was 13 years old, they all welcomed me into their family and although we don’t get to see each other much, I love them and am honored to call them friends.  They are really good people.  You know what I mean?  Honest, sincere, funny and witty.  They love their country, family and never met a stranger.  The other two people are newer to me and are nothing short of a gift from God.  They are…my half brothers!  From my dad’s first marriage (we were marriage #2), these guys remained a mystery to me until last December.  When my dad died, they both came to his celebration of life service.  Oh my!  I was instantly smitten with the idea of having these two men in my life.  They are kind, genuine and want me in their life!  How about that?  Whereas we went to honor the loss of our mutual father, it was in his death that new life sprang up between theses guys and me.  We live long-distance, but it is an enormous blessing to share emails and Facebook with them.  Our dad would be so happy!  Also, I got to meet their mom and she is wonderful!  Actually, all 3 wives would get along great if my mom were alive today.  The peace and harmony in our colorful family is Christ.  Everyone single one of us are believers, and that is what makes this unique situation – not just work – but be one of the greatest blessings in my life.  I LOVE having two half-brothers and am forever grateful they have room in their hearts for me.  Life, no – God, is full of surprises!

#4 – I am thankful for four words – blessing, honor, glory & power.  One of my favorite worship songs is Philips, Craig & Dean’s When the Stars Burn Down.  What a great song about what is to come!  In the meantime, these four words usurp everything this world can throw at us.  Whether we are at our peak or in the deepest valley, it all pales in comparison to the majesty of the God we serve.  If I am shouting praise or crying His name through pain, who God is covers all.  The mere shadow of the train of His robe dwarfs the problems of this world as well as sets me up for the anticipation of the very real world that awaits.  With a word, the sun will fade, the moon will hide and the world as we know it will be changed.  In all of the seasons of life, my heart claims again and again and again blessing, honor, glory & power.  There is strength, healing and grace in the Name that saves.

#3 – I am blessed with three amazing kids!!!!!  Each one of them was born with a different love language and communication style, unique talents and gifts – life is never boring with them!  They are so much fun.  They love their family deeply and show it in their own way.  I never thought I’d have 3 kids.  Never thought I’d have boys – and I have two.  Never thought I’d have a daughter who is so much like her mother. 🙂  In the mornings while I sleepily gather lunchboxes, my oldest son tells me often how pretty he thinks I am.  To me, there nothing pretty about morning stick-up hair, my husband’s robe I stole from him long ago 😉 or my less-than-enthusiastic attitude pre-sunrise, but he says he sees a mom who is willing to get up and make breakfast and lunch and see him off for the day and that he thinks that’s beautiful.  My teenage daughter, when asked in a survey at a girls retreat who her best friend is, listed me!!  Need I say more?  My youngest, a tween, still hugs me every single time he leaves for any activity – and he doesn’t care who sees.  Even at school, in the middle of tons of cars and kids, he’ll give me a hug and a kiss.  I’m never going to turn it down.  I am blessed beyond measure with awesome kids and I never, ever take that granted.

#2 – Two surgical boots.  That’s right!  I am thankful for this season of healing for Bruce and me.  Although it is crazy, stressful, choatic and literally painful, this season has brought me such beautiful blessings of: having my husband work from home (I get to see him more!), some stolen lunches together (something we otherwise never get to have), and a renewed compassion for each other.  First, I was down for the count after surgery and he cared for me.  Then, he fell from 20′ and has been quite injured and it’s my turn to care for him – even as I hobble to do it.  Watching ourselves limp in tandem around the house, hearing the loud velcro strips from our boots either coming off or putting them on, sharing the ice machine – and even the shower seat (EWW!!) has slowed our pace, let us laugh at life, and has reminded us that in the daily grind of the week we are people, not machines.  Nursing our medical issues has also given us permission to simply go to bed earlier with no guilt.  Something both of us needed.

#1 – There is one Name that saves.  Only one.  His name is Jesus Christ.  He is my true love, hope, salvation, joy, purpose, friend, brother, King, Lord, Prince of Peace, manager, coach, cheerleader, encourager, my Savior – my everything!  I will give Him thanks today and always.  To him who is able to keep you from falling and to present you before his glorious presence without fault and with great joy—to the only God our Savior be glory, majesty, power and authority, through Jesus Christ our Lord, before all ages, now and forevermore! Amen. (Jude 24-25)

What is your top ten? 🙂

Untangle the web of lies – fathers & daughters

I have been given the humble privilege of speaking to high school girls about lies young women believe.  With this task, I must go to the locked parts of my heart and open the door to my past – which is complicated.  Why bother? I’m on the other side now!  I’m married with children, wounds are healed, and life has moved on.

However, there are scores of young women in the generation behind me that are sinking in quicksand of brutal lies and cultural myths.  I have been there and deeply know their pain.  So, with my proverbial flashlight, muck shoes and a rusty set of keys, I’m going to dig beneath the surface of my current life and venture to lessons learned from my past, in hopes of speaking Truth into young women’s futures.

There are numerous books and articles written by professionals on this subject.  I simply want to tell my story.  An average, American girl and the positive and negative effects social culture and family dynamics have on a girl’s self-esteem, confidence, and perceived value.  I’d like to utilize this venue to think through a few things before speaking to the girls.  There will be more than one blog as we tackle different facets of the tumultuous middle and high school years.

(Deep breath) Here we go…

My mom’s second marriage began when I was four years old.  Her first marriage ended when I was one, and my birth father gave me up for adoption.  As a result, my stepfather adopted me.  It’s strange. Even at four, I knew I was merely baggage being brought into their 7-year marriage.  I felt left out, unwanted, and more of a burden to my stepfather than anything else.  My remedy?  Fly under the radar from day one.  Be as good of a girl as I could be, and although he might never like me, at least there will be peace in the house.  I may not have known those kinds of colloquiums per say, but I certainly understood the feelings associated with them throughout my childhood.

There is a ton of research today on the effects fathers have on daughters.  About a year ago, I was driving alone in my van when I heard the radio the program “Focus on the Family.” A psychologist was talking about what happens when a daughter (or stepdaughter) doesn’t receive affirmation and validation from her father (or stepfather) in her formative years.  There I was, just driving along, minding my own business.  As I listened to the discussion, I burst into tears and nearly threw up on the steering wheel – my reaction was instantaneous and reflexive.  Wow.  I didn’t see that coming.  A flood of emotions overtook me, and there was nothing I could do to stop it.  Every single point the psychologist made was spot on.

A woman can hear every day from others how beautiful she is, but if she never heard it from her father – there is a chasm inside her psyche that remains void.

To this day, I have never heard from my birth father, stepfather or grandfather (all now deceased) one single word that I was pretty, much less beautiful.  If they thought it, they never said it, and I wasn’t given any reason to believe this was the case.  I cannot tell you how much damage this did to my self-confidence and feelings of worthlessness.

When I draw my last breath, I will have lived my entire life without ever having heard those words from the influential men in my life.

This sent me spiraling as an adolescent and teenager to try to convince others I was beautiful so I could hear those words from them.  I just needed to hear it from someone.  That’s my point.  If a father (or male influence) doesn’t tell the daughter in his life she is beautiful (both inside & out), she will look for that affirmation elsewhere to fill this innate need in her development.  It almost feels like a rite of passage into womanhood, and when it doesn’t happen, the girl never truly feels like she gets to grow into a woman.  Rather, she is stuck in a twilight zone of being and looking like a woman, but still seeing her reflection in the mirror as an awkward adolescent.

I remember one time in high school, my friends (a guy and a girl) and I were going out for the evening.  I rode in the passenger seat while he drove.  My other friend rode in the backseat.  When we reached our destination, I pulled the sun visor down to look at myself in the mirror.  I frantically checked everything in the minutest detail – hair, jewelry, make up, clothes, my smile – everything.  He turned to me and sarcastically said, So…are you going to date that mirror?  Ug.  His lack of tact, inferring I was staring too long at myself, was more salt rubbed in the wound of a girl who was desperate to hear that she was pretty so she didn’t need to scrutinize herself in the mirror of some guy’s car.  To hide my embarrassment, I laughed (with him, I might add) and quickly flipped up the mirror and bolted out of the car.

Fathers (or male authority figures) wield much influence over daughters.  This can be done the right way or the wrong way.  God forbid the father make fun of or be rudely critical of his daughter.  If so, he has set her up to be a candidate of marrying someone that will do the same to her, and the girl – now woman – will find it nearly impossible to realize her full sense of beauty if she’s always told she is the opposite.

Some dads may not be harmful with their words, but may be mute (as such was my case).  This defaults to the girl that she, indeed, is not beautiful.  Girls are hard enough on ourselves in the middle and high school years.  If we are not hearing the opposite of what we are already telling ourselves (I’m fat.  I’m ugly.  I’m a loser.  I’ll never measure up.), then the silence from father figures will validate these lies.

But, if a father pours words of affirmation into his daughter, she is validated from an early age.  This, in turn, boosts her self-confidence to follow her dreams, take healthy chances in life, and be beautifully independent from needing unhealthy approval. She can approach the world without having to date a mirror to feel accepted.  Yes.  A father’s influence is that powerful.

Fathers need to own their responsibility with their daughters.  They need to make time as often as possible to tell their daughter she is beautiful inside and out.  Even if things aren’t perfect between you two (life seldom is), but the relationship is open to communication, find something beautiful about your daughter and say it to her.  Preferably face-to-face, but if that’s not possible, text, email, voicemail, Facebook, IM, Skype, Oovoo, written mail, hire a plane to write it in the sky, or however it can be done – just do it.  You have the opportunity now to set her up for success for the rest of her life.  Take it.  As I have found out, life is short and you may miss your chance.

<<Check out the companion song to this blog on my Tunes page and book recommendation on my Books page!>>

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(A note to parents: Sons need to be reared from the beginning to be kind, in word and actions, toward their mothers and sisters.  When a boy has grown up finding the good in their mom and sisters, it will be more natural for him to find it in his wife and daughters.  Start now teaching sons what true beauty is, and to not miss an opportunity to tell her so.  This is one thing I love about my boys.  They are tween and teen and tell me on a regular basis how beautiful I am.  They notice my haircuts or maybe a rare, new outfit, but more often they tell me how much they like my jokes, admire how hard I work, and that I have, according to my youngest, the “bluebirdiest singing voice.”  They are learning to dig beneath the superficial surface of physical appearance and uncover the priceless hidden treasure of inner beauty.  How do they know this?  They see their dad example it.  And, I’m quick to tell them how much it means to me.  It’s never too early or late to start.)