Father's Day

"The Lord your God in your midst, The Mighty One, will save; He will rejoice over you with gladness, He will quiet you with His love, He will rejoice over you with singing.”

-Zephaniah 3:17

    Do you ever stare at a blank page and just feel empty of words? That’s how I feel when it comes to writing about Father’s Day.

    Father’s Day is a special day. It is the one day of the year we set aside to honor the men in our lives who have been our rocks through the hard days, and our dear friends to laugh with on the good ones. Fathers, husbands, grandfathers, uncles…they all matter, and Father’s Day gives us an opportunity to show them they do.

    But there are those fathers, husbands, grandfathers, and uncles who don’t deserve to be honored. Some of my closet mentors were physically and/or emotionally abused by their husbands. One of my classmate’s grandfathers was a harsh and selfish man who verbally abused those closest to him. So many friends of mine have emotionally abusive or absent fathers.

     So, Father’s Day doesn’t always foster warm feelings.  

     I called my father today to wish him a “Happy Father’s Day.” It turned into a ten-minute therapy fest for my dad as he shared how hurt he was that I couldn’t physically spend time with him on Father’s Day. I was selfish in not wanting to spend a lengthy amount of time with a dysfunctional man who uses Scripture to tear me down and remind me of how I fail as a daughter, emotionally abuses my mother and sister, and fails to recognize, let alone repent, of his sins toward his family.

    My dad wants a family that never existed. He wants a happy family that loves their daddy because he provided for them, loved them, and put their needs before his own. He wants a daughter that looks into her father’s eyes with admiration because she knows he is her hero. He wants to be loved as the father he never was.

    I had to hang up the phone as his frustration escalated. Tears began to form in my eyes as I realized yet again that my father does not change. He still walks in a fairy tale land that I refuse to enter. I was okay with it when I was a little girl because I didn’t have an option. It was better to accept what wasn’t there than to address the problems our family faced day in and day out. I was too little to do anything. I was too entangled in the web of my dysfunctional home to even know how to break free. I didn’t even know my Heavenly Father enough to trust that it was okay to release control of trying to fix my dad.

    Since my freshman summer, God has taken me on an incredible but hard journey to discover what a father is supposed to look like by showing me Himself. God became my provider, my best friend, my source of wisdom, and even my second-half on spontaneous father and daughter dates, whether it be a walk outside or a sacred dance session just worshipping and expressing my heart in a racket ball court. God became my daddy. God is my daddy.

    It still hurts when my earthly dad pulls out one of his emotionally charged arrows and hits me where he knows I am weakest. I still have not numbed to the longing of having a loving earthly dad. The tears come freely when I hear a dad express his love for his daughter. Sometimes, whenever I think about getting married, I cringe at the thought of having my dad walk me down the aisle. I don’t even really want him to come to my college graduation. My dad’s love has so many strings attached that I just don’t have the bandwidth to navigate through the loopholes. I don’t think it’s healthy for me either.

    So, I pray and will continue to pray that God would give me a heart for my dad, but one that does not allow words of death to take up residence. I also pray and will pray that God continues to show me that I am His beloved and precious daughter and that He sings over me daily and delights in my presence.

    Oh, Father, may I never forget that precious truth.

Open the Eyes of My Heart, Lord

“You, who have shown me great and severe troubles, shall revive me again, and bring me up again from the depths of the earth. You shall increase my greatness, and comfort me on every side.” 

Psalm 71:20-21

            Open the eyes of my heart, Lord. Open the eyes of my heart. I want to see You. I want to see You…

            I love those words. I used to sing this song in church so often growing up. The words did not stand out to me when I was a child, but now I find them echoing in my head this evening as I color the words in a coloring book.

            This winter break has been very restful. I have read three books cover-to-cover (for fun!!), enjoyed many cups of warm tea, snuggled under blankets watching episodes of Bonanza, and praying a lot for the Lord to make me more into the woman He wants me to be—to open the eyes of my heart to what He has for me this next semester.

I think the most special moment for me this Christmas break took place during my trip to Memphis, Tennessee. I met one of the ladies I interviewed for an abortion article being published in WORLD this month. I had communicated with her off and on for about six months while I was working on the piece but had never met her in person until this past December. We spent a day together with her dear husband Danny exploring Memphis. We did some clothes shopping at a local Goodwill, walked across the bridge from Tennessee into Arkansas, took a carriage ride, and rode the elevator to the top of the pyramid of the Bass Pro shop. All of these activities were fun, but it was the end of the day that was so special.

This kind woman sat me down for apple pie in the restaurant of the Bass Pro shop and shooed her husband off so we could talk. She wanted to know about my family and how I was really doing. I did not know what to say without starting from the beginning. This was going to be my first Christmas without my biological family. I gave her a ten-minute synopsis of my 21-year history. I told her about the dysfunction in my home and the many trials and “growing pains” I had experienced over the past two years. She had spoken so freely and cheerfully the whole day but now she just listened intently to everything I had to say. She wanted me to know she cared.

I let out a heavy sigh after I finished. I ended by telling her that I felt very broken and homeless in many ways and that I was struggling to understand why God was bringing me through so much fire. She did not have an answer for me, but she took a little gift out of a grocery bag and handed it to me. It was a little box with a pink-jeweled heart on top. The box was so beautiful that I asked her if she was sure she wanted me to open it. The kind woman told me that breaking the heart on top was the point. I had to break it to receive what was inside. I broke the heart seal and took out an ornament of a lion lying down with a lamb. She told me that God had nudged her heart to purchase that gift for me and to put it in a box with a heart seal that had to be broken. The kind woman told me that God sees my broken heart and He wants me to know that He understands.

Tears formed in my eyes. Only the Holy Spirit could have prompted her to purchase this gift and give it to me right at a time during the holidays when I was feeling so much grief.

I went to sleep that night full of awe at God’s kindness to me and yet with more questions as to what else the ornament might mean.

I dreamt that night that one of my closest friends pointed to my heart and told me that God could heal it. I woke up befuddled as to what it meant. I usually do not dream, but this one was so vivid I could not forget it. I wondered if God was trying to tell me something. I just was not sure what.

 I had coffee that morning with the kind woman before she headed back to Georgia in the afternoon. She looked at me before we ended our time together and told me that God wanted me to make time for my healing. My eyes again filled with tears but this time I just let them fall freely as I hugged her in the coffee shop. It felt so good to release my tears and yet, most importantly, I felt a burden lifted as I realized that God not only validated my pain but that He was going to heal it. He was not going to let me bear heartbreak alone. He was going to be my father in place of the emotional loss of my earthly one.

I looked a mess when I walked to the back of the coffee shop to wash up, but my heart was lighter knowing that God sees. He sees me.

Now, here I am. It’s been about three weeks since that trip and already my heart is starting to feel that gripping anxiety about the new semester. All that schoolwork, internships, building new friendships and continually releasing old ones to God, and really just climbing new mountains.

Nevertheless, it is the refrain of that song that is going through my mind despite all the worries. Open the eyes of my heart, Lord. Open the eyes of my heart, I want to see You. I want to see You…

Yes, Lord, I want to see You. I need Your healing hand this semester. My heart needs You.