A Healing Light on an Old Problem

I was looking through some old journals throughout July and into August.  I like to do that to remind me of what I have learned throughout the years, and to remind me of my past blessings when current problems arise.  Two weeks ago I was re-reading my kids' comments from a Fathers Day service at our church - things they learned from their Dad - and it moved me to tears all over again!  But as I read the remarks it (finally) occurred to me that I could say many of those same things about my own Dad - I never do, though, because I did not ever feel that I had a personal and loving relationship with him.  I was afraid of him from my earliest memories - he was big and I was small, he had a loud voice and I was very quiet, he really spanked those naughty brothers of mine and that scared me - and I do not ever remember hugs and kisses from him, though my mom insisted he loved me and was very proud of me.  But this past August 5th was kind of a wake-up call for me.  I believe I have dwelt on the negatives and just let the positives pass me by all these years.  Now, because of my kids' thoughtful comments on my husband as a father, I am moved to highlight the ways in which my Dad shaped me for the good and helped me become what I am today.  I should, then, say thanks to my wonderful sweetheart for showing me what a real father is, and that I really did have one of my own all those years!  My Dad always provided for his family, which could not have been easy with 10 kids and depression years and a country at war a good share of that time.  He did not go into debt, except for our house in the city, which cost a whopping $5,000 and took at least 20 years to pay for.  We had lots of food, adequate clothing, a safe family life, good shelter, and constant supervision and care.  He always made sure we did well in school, that we did not talk back to anyone, that we respected our elders.  Dad did not accept crude or cursing language, he insisted on modest dress at home and in public.  He loved my mom totally and faithfully.  He disciplined when necessary being much more gentle with the sisters than with the brothers.  He encouraged me when I began to follow Christ, though he never went to church the whole time I knew him (except for weddings).  Mom and Dad had met at church, though, as they were in choir together.  In later pictures and videos of my family, I do see more smiles on Dad's face, and the joy that his family evidently gave him.  Before he died we did make a truce, of sorts.  He met me at the train one day as I went back to college for another year, and for some reason I gave him a hug and told him I loved him.  He was really surprised and said, "I love you, too!"  I have wished since then that I had tried that tactic much earlier and maybe things would have been different!  At any rate, though it has taken me a very long time, I think I can now say that I was blessed by the father that God gave to me, and that he did in many ways model my Heavenly Father for me.  He was imperfect, and I now see that I should have been looking at his heart and seeing the real him.  God has certainly done that for me and I should have been doing it all along for all those around me!

My Dad would be 113 tomorrow, August 17, 2016, if he were still alive.  Maybe I have cried fewer tears over his passing in 1968 because of my failure to understand him.  But now that I finally see the "light", I expect it will hurt more.  I have a hope that he and my wonderful Mom will someday greet me on Heaven's shores and we can all sit down and rejoice in healed memories.  Isn't God good?!!