Oh Lord, you have examined my heart and know everything about me. Psalms 139:1.
Father’s Day has never been an easy day for me. Hallmark just doesn’t make cards that say, “Happy Father’s day…oh, and thanks for a childhood full of confusion and abuse.” It’s really sad, though. Each year I go through this rant of how I am going to write an honest, appropriate Father’s Day card to him. I say all the things he won’t hear, and I demand that he owns them and repent. But then I never do send it. Some years I send a simple text that states, “Thanks for my life.” Most years I bypass communication altogether.
Unfortunately, my dear husband, who is everything I wish my father had been to me, gets the short end of the stick. We usually are low key on the celebration. I just don’t want to be reminded of what I don’t have. I avoid social media in order not to provoke a “trigger” that takes me weeks to recover from. But this year I am taking a chance and focusing on my husband, the father of my three—soon to be four—children.
For me, because of the abuse I received from my father, I have a hard time with men in general. I’m guarded and accusatorial when coming in contact with a man I don’t know. When my husband has hurt me or let me down (as people do), it’s catastrophic for me because the betrayals of my father have left deep scars. I continue to allow the past hurts to hinder all logic and forgiveness when I am betrayed by anyone, especially by my husband.
But, I want to see this day as an opportunity to celebrate the wonderful fathers that I do have in my life. Two of my three brothers have become fathers in recent years. They are not only exceptional fathers, but they have also shown my husband and me a thing or two about parenting. A few years ago my brother-in-law almost lost his family but he showed us what true repentance is, and I am witness to a true miracle! He is one of the most devoted daddies I have ever met. Then there is my late step father, my second chance daddy, who was taken home recently. He showed me and my siblings something we never saw from our biological dad: authentic, unconditional love for our mother. Last but not least, my favorite daddy, the father of my own children, my husband Anthony who has shown me time and time again what true fatherhood looks like. He shows unconditional love, laying his life aside for the needs of his children and leading by example—from his knees.
Instead of focusing on what I don’t have with my father, I am pledging to focus on what my children do have. Rather than feeling sorry for myself over what I was given by my father, which is a lifetime of hurt, I am going to focus on what he did give me: my life. Finally and most importantly, I’m going to focus on my real Father, the one who shaped me in my mother’s womb (Psalm 139:13-14), for He is my one true Father who has carried and cared for me all my life.
I am going to pledge that when I become overwhelmed with the pain from my childhood and the psychological and sexual abuse my earthly father bestowed upon me, I will remind myself of what my true Abba Father has given me. When I reflect upon the things I have received from both my fathers, Abba has proven time and time again His never failing love, His faithful promises, His abundant grace, and His mounting blessings. Great is the Lord! He is most worthy of praise! No one can measure his greatness! Psalms 145:3.
Happy Father’s Day to Dads everywhere!
I was sick and tired of my parents controlling my life. It seemed like I’d been having one long argument with my father as long as I could remember. I thought the only way to get out from under the tyrannical oppression was to hurry up, get a college degree, and start earning my own money.
Still, if I really take time to stop and study it, my son reminds me of myself a lot. We look alike and we both are strong-willed. But in the heat of the moment I don’t seem to be able to find any empathy. Afterwards, when I’m calm, I can re-play the situation and identify with my son even though he insists I have no idea what life is like for him. But in the middle of our conversations when I’m angry and worried about him, I can easily forget how sensitive and intelligent my child is. And I forget how fragile all relationships are and how harsh words can shatter our connection.
So, the reality is that my son is 18 years old, and he’s registered in the Selective Service System with over 16 million other men potentially subject to being drafted into the United States military. He is an adult with adult responsibilities whether I like it or not.
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