There are few men quite like my Dad. He can pound nails, cut down trees, diagnose cars and people, and manhandle just about anything, but there is a tender nurturing side to him. He has been a steady compass for me in my adult years, he has by-passed his own principle’s and particularities to maintain a voice in my life. When my daughter was two I spent most of my days solo, without husband or Daddy around to take the edge off. On a much-needed trip to visit my parents I arrived rigid, absolute, ‘Darth Mom’ as my brother calls it. My Dad is discerning, a gift from the giver of good things, and openly rebuked me for smothering, which I thought was mothering. It hurt, I cried, couldn’t stop and never can after my Daddy corrects me. However, during the heart stripping crying before my Dad, I told him he had no idea what it was like to be a Mom alone all the time and that I kept my life orderly and secure so that nothing ‘bad’ would happen. The look on his face was compassion, his voice was silent, and thus began a trust between us. I talked and he began to listen.
When my son was six month’s old he refused to be cared for by anyone but me. I felt frustrated and resentful that I could not have one evening out or take a bath for that matter without his little demands. I never in all my life thought I would be the Mother of a ‘Mama’s Boy’. I never talked about my feelings with anyone, no complaints, but I wear my emotions on my sleeve, I know it. After several sleepless nights and naps resigned for the two of us my Dad put his hand on my shoulder and said, “You know it’s because your such a good Mom that he’s like that.” I was not thinking about the circumstances in that light whatsoever, I was trying to figure out what I had done wrong, how had I spoiled this boy? Dad said, “Yeah, he feels safe with you, your giving him what he needs right now, and it’s a good thing, honey.” I remember thinking that yet again my Dad had not a clue what Motherhood was all about and I should send him a parenting book. Then it sunk in, I was doing what God had ordained for me, for some reason my little son needed to know I was with him. He needed a Mom who would hold him in the night, talk to him softly, and smile at him not scold him when he just couldn’t get to sleep. How did my Dad know?
What my Dad knows is that children need a place to land, and in the presence of their parents is often that place. Children need to be able to speak in earnest, to rest peacefully, and to hear the thoughts of one who has walked longer than they have. I do not always provide my children with the attention, position, and dignity that these little image bearers need. I do ask Jesus to keep me close, to remember how I stray and how I need mercy.
Most recently I overheard my daughter telling my son about Papa, my Dad, and how Papa can do this, and Papa can do that… I laughed to myself as I might have exaggerated a few stories here and there. No harm done I figure, he is my hero, why shouldn’t he be theirs too? Dad would deny it all, correct me promptly for making him out to be more than he is, and I would hang my head. The reason is that I do want to please him, but I like to revert to childhood wonder where there really are good guys and they always win. There is hope in seeing a pilgrim make his way through this life and stay the course. I find encouragement in giving witness to a brother in faith continuing to change and mold himself late in life instead of masking himself behind individual beliefs. Mostly, I want to model his behavior that the person is more important than the plan and the people in our lives are what makes life worth it.
There is no hiding that I love my Dad. This is a great Father’s Day, a time to rejoice in the idea of Father’s and their children.
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