Dads and Fathers

Yesterday was my Dad's birthday. It was a bittersweet event for me. I spent the evening talking to him and relating to him, but I couldn't help shake the guilt of having him in my life. My best friend (and fellow Fat Old Mom) lost her Dad unexpectedly 6 years earlier on MY Dad's birthday. He was returning from Bejing and didn't even get the chance to exit his plane due to a fatal heart attack.

Erica shared a rich childhood with her Dad. They had a close relationship and even when the miles and circumstances kept them apart, she felt loved and adored. Her Dad made sure she had everything she needed, and not just financially. She was his little princess and I don't think she ever doubted that for a second.

I did not share that kind of relationship with my Dad. We constantly butted heads, and though we shared a poignant moment here and there, our similarities caused us to fight all of the time. We were both hard headed, stubborn and opinionated. There were times we went years without talking. I blamed him. He blamed me. Mom was constantly being a referee. I'm suprised the poor woman wasn't required to wear stripes and have a whistle around her neck.

I learned much from my Dad. He taught me about hard work.....I thought I was a slave. He taught me about going the extra mile....I thought he pushed me too hard. He taught me there were no excuses....I thought I had no way out. He did the best he could with what he knew and what he had to work with (especially with ME as a daughter!)

I also had this kind of relationship with God. I didn't like to listen to Him. He was a part of my life....but not daily. I saw Him on occasion (usually Sunday mornings if I felt like it). I fought with Him. He loved me, but He couldn't make me do what He wanted me to do. I was willful and wanted my own way. I walked away from Him. I shouted at Him. I didn't feel loved because I was being unloveable. He did the best He could with what He had to work with in me.

When I got to college age, I couldn't take it any more and I moved out. I went away to college to escape from my Dad. Don't get me wrong, I knew he loved me, but we sure didn't like one another. I didn't think he was much of a Dad, and I constantly disappointed him as a daughter. I didn't think I could ever live up to his expectations. I didn't think I could ever be the skinny, beautiful daughter he had hoped for. I made some bad choices and I thought he hated me for it.

Eventually I moved back to my hometown and it took about another 10 years before I started feeling worthy. As my relationship with my Father improved, so did the one with my Dad. As I felt the grace of God enter my life, I also felt the grace of my Daddy. As I spent more time in prayer, so I spent more time conversing with my Dad. Once I saw myself as beautiful and successful and worthy in God's eyes, I began to see that reflection in all of my relationships, but the most noticable was the one I shared with the original man in my life.

No sweeter words were spoken than "I love you" coming from my Dad's lips ....and actually believing them. Do I love him?.... I always have. Does he know it?...now he does. Does he love me?...he always has. Do I know it?....now I do.

The same can be said for my relationship with God, my heavenly Father. When I pray and hear the words "I love you", they couldn't be sweeter. Do I love Him?...I always have. Does He know it?...now He does!