Father's Day is a very bittersweet holiday for me. Sweet because I can celebrate what an amazing father my kids have. Bitter because of my own experience with my father. My parents weren't married, so when I came to be, for whatever reason, my father decided not to have anything to do with me. I'd like to think that nearly 30 years on this Earth has taught me that it wasn't about me. I used to think that I wanted to know exactly what happened. What was said and done that resulted in his decision. And sometimes I'd still like some sort of explanation. But I know that it wouldn't matter. Things happened, choices were made, and that was his decision. I'm sure he thought he did what was best at the time. I often wonder if he regrets that choice.
I once heard Beth Moore talk about scars and how you think that something in life has "scarred" you. But if you poke that scar and still hurts, it's not a scar - it's an open wound, no matter how old it is. As much as I hate it, that relationship (or lack of) is my open wound. And every Father's Day it's poked. And it hurts.
A part of me wants to contact him to let him know how I've turned out. Rub it in his face that I'm happy and have a great marriage and two (almost three) beautiful children that he's missed out on. A part of me feels like he doesn't even deserve to know any of that. And another part of me wants him to know all of that just to see if now, after all I've done, after almost 30 years, if I'm finally worth his love and attention. I hate that he can still bring those feelings up in me. That I allow him to take a confident, loving woman and turn me into a scared little girl dying for attention from her father. And he has NO idea of that wound.
Now that I'm wanting to build my relationship with God I can feel that wound seeping into my thoughts and feelings about Him. My view of what a father is has been tainted - so how am I suppose to trust God the Father to take care of me if my own biological father didn't want to? How can I trust Him if I could never trust my own father? What makes me think I am worthy of His love if I was never worthy of my father's love?
I haven't spoken to my father in over ten years (after a couple awkward visits while I was in college). And I probably won't contact him again. I don't think I'll ever get what I need from him - an apology, an explanation. So I push it back and pray that someday that wound will heal.
"...his name is the LORD—and rejoice before him.
A father to the fatherless, a defender of widows, is God in his holy dwelling. "