Father’s Day 2015 is drawing to a close as I write. Perhaps these thoughts would be better concealed in my journal. But I’m sharing them with you instead….
Not my favorite service
The Father’s Day church service has usually been my least favorite church service. Father’s Day messages in my childhood church tore at my heart. They seemed to almost mock the divide between what the preacher was saying about “good” dads, and my dad. Subconsciously I probably felt I was being asked to choose between my dad and the concept of “dad” that the preacher was presenting.
In that little church, all the dads were invited up front to receive a small gift. I wanted to disappear, feeling the shame of my dad not being there. I also felt guilty; if I were a better son, wouldn’t I have the courage to invite my dad to church, at least on Father’s Day?
That courage came
A few decades later I was dad’s caregiver. Mom died days after Father’s Day. The following Sunday I asked dad if he’d like to go to church. For the next three plus years, every Sunday that he was able, we went. Including on Father’s Day.
That was a privilege I will always cherish. Supporting him as he wheeled his walker down the ramp from the house to my car. Guiding him as he transferred from the car to the wheelchair so I push him up the long walk to the church. Seeing his smile and delight in shaking hands with others. Being touched by their kindness to him. Helping him take communion. Wondering what he was really thinking.
Being proud of him simply because I was finally allowing myself that permission.
Because he was my dad.
This is the fifth Father’s Day since my dad’s death
I have enjoyed good memories today. And I’ve not felt guilty about the memories that still hurt. I’ve thanked God for giving me my dad, while not ignoring that painful questions remain unanswered.
I’ve been thankful today for the assurance that when I see my dad again, those parts of him that caused pain will be gone. He will be who God created him to be. And so will I.
I’ve been thankful today for my friends who are examples of good fathers. And I’ve not denied the emptiness of belonging to that minority of men who have never been called “dad”. Nor have I failed to remember that I still make an impact – whether I’m a dad or not.
My Father’s Assurance
Looking back on this Father’s Day, I see it is no accident that these words were impressed on my mind, prior to my going to sleep last night:
“Come to me, all you who are weary and burdened, and I will give you rest. Take my yoke upon you and learn from me, from I am gentle and humble in heart, and you will find rest for your souls.” Matthew 11: 28-29
Those words spoken by Jesus from the heart of God, and communicated to me by the Holy Spirit, utter quiet reassurance.
I have a Father who knows, understands, and loves my heart.
And so do you.
This post is shared at WFMW.
Leave a Reply