Dear Reader,
We piled a lot into the last weekend, didn’t we? Americans celebrated a new federal holiday, Juneteenth, and we also celebrated Father’s Day. Yea!
I wish I could tell you I did something mind-blowing for either occasion, but I was otherwise obligated. So obligated that I neglected to show respect for fathers on any of my social media accounts. My oops!
So to all the real fathers out there, I want to wish you — all the best, and may your families be blessed.
Did you catch what I wrote?
“Real fathers.”
Am I the only person who too often ascribes “real” to fathers?
Of course not.
We (as a society) don’t discriminate against mothers that way. We usually assume that all mothers are the greatest. Right? I mean, mothers have done the laborious work of carrying, for approximately nine months, this growing seed that feeds off of the mother’s body to create a child that will slide through a birth canal and be pushed out into the world. Indeed, a woman’s work is hard. So we cheer in reverence, hooray for mothers!!!!
They deserve a holiday. Well, at least some of them deserve a holiday. And y’all know I am telling the truth. While I don’t intend to be a downer, we must admit that there are some seriously poor excuses for mothers out there. Am I right, again?
Specifically, but without calling names, we have all heard about women who have driven their kids into lakes, women who have left the security of one family to begin a new one with their teenage student. And what about the women who have kids to get a check? You know, the ones called gold diggers and other unkind words. Even so, regardless of those nefarious acts (minus the first one), come Mother’s Day, someone somewhere will make them feel good about performing a natural act, whether they really are a loving and nurturing parent or not.
Yes. Most women with children get respect by default. But fathers usually have to earn every ounce of appreciation.
Fathers better beam like the sun and hang the moon to get more than a card or a pair of socks.
We (as a society) expect them to do less, so we give them less, and only when they do waaaaaay more than expected, do we acknowledge them as great fathers. At least that is how I have seen it.
Some of us, weepy chicks like me, cry when we see a wonderful dad. He is usually the kind of man who enjoys playing with his kids and doing what moms have always done (cooking, cleaning, hair braiding, etc.) Those are the remarkable dads—the time spenders, not just the dollar earners.
Practically, we know great dads take time with their kids. They show up for their kid’s games; they read their children bedtime stories; they have daddy-daughter days and teach their sons how to be good men. All the things that take time.
Great dads walk their daughters down the aisle, and they teach their boys how to love a woman. Those are the dads, the heroes I celebrate on Father’s Day.
My grandfather was that man for me. Unfortunately, he died when I was seven. I guess you could say I have missed out on a lot, but spiritually I have a Heavenly Father who has made up for everything, and then some, especially when I allow Him to.
So while I didn’t get all the stuff that a daddy’s girl gets while growing up, I have all the love I could dream of now. I let go of those pesky, depressive father issues and stopped asking myself, “what’s wrong with me?” every time a relatively good relationship with a man went left. Several years ago I surrendered to the greatest love of all and no earthly father can compare.
These days I live with the certainty that I am loved and protected. I shock myself sometimes with how whole I have become. I only wish I had known what I know now back then. I would have saved myself a lot of Kleenexes, gallons of ice cream, and Oreo cookies. Thank God, I have a high metabolism.
There are two practical reasons for my attitude. One, I have learned to not compare my upbringing with anyone else’s, and two, I have learned to forgive, quickly.
Sure, sometimes I get a little misty-eyed when I see a man cradling his daughter in his arms, or watching a dad kneel and pray by her beside. I remember getting caught up emotionally the first time I saw the commercial with the dad practicing cheers with his teenage daughter. How sweet was that? And it’s okay for me to be mushy on those occasions. As my mom says, we are still in this flesh suit so it’s quite alright to have emotions. But I don’t linger there—in the land of what-ifs and why-nots.
If I feel really sad about something, I let it out privately, before the One who made — me, my earthly father, and the entire universe. In those rare moments, I ask God to heal those hurts, once again, and He always does. He promises that my weeping may endure for a night, but joy comes in the morning. And because I believe, it always does.
What I’m sharing may sound special, but it’s available. We all have the opportunity to experience a Father’s love. It’s only a prayer away.
If you’d like to know more about this kind of loving relationship and how any voids or daddy issues in your life can be filled, please shoot me an email using the subject, “Father.” I will reply to those who respond this week. Otherwise, please leave a comment below.
In the meantime, check out these songs to encourage you. The lyrics are AMAZING!:
He Knows My Name – Tommy Walker – Worship video with lyrics
An upbeat version of the same title: https://youtu.be/cnmnEc6gF3E
Have a peaceful week knowing you have a father who loves you. With blessed regards,
If you like this blog, please join my mailing list and support me by downloading at least one copy of my 21 Days to Your Best Life Yet ebook for $4.99. Ten percent of the proceeds will go to Rizing Starz Incorporated towards the purchase of the #CandraVan.
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