Things I learned from my Father

I have a bad relationship with my father. I love him. But is there respect? I keep having to remind myself. Don't get me wrong - I am in awe at the way my parents have stayed together despite all odds, personality-wise, financially or family-wise. They belonged to a different era than now, better because 'compatibility' was simply not reason enough. Commitment was always the bigger word - defying arithmetic ;). I appreciate it so much. It's definitely what I want to do myself. But my father was never someone who knew me. He still isn't. That seems like a shameless plug of my own post, but it's not. Trust me.

I learned that knowing from my Father. I learned that discipline comes in love not in anger. I learned that when I make a mistake and am sorry, there are tears in my Father's eyes. I learned that to go to your Father with your problems means that you get a big, fat hug first. And He holds you until you're warm again. When I had a painful operation on my toe, I was old enough to be on my own. I was 21. But the power went out that night and all through the night, my toe throbbed in just the most cry-worthy way. I'm pretty stoic. I never cried when I fell off my bike and had a compound fracture - I insisted I'd go to church first because it was why I was on my bike in the first place. But this night... I cried. Also I didn't go to bed because there was a slight breeze in the living room so I tried to sleep on the sofa. This night, my father sat behind my crouched body (I couldn't lie down because I was jumpy with the pain) and bade me lean on him, so I could sleep. And I remember thinking Wow, this feels like Abba. It was strange that it should and just for those moments, I shut my eyes against the pain and stopped crying and leaned back for more of this unusual, lovely moment. But I already knew what it felt like. God has held me so many times. The first time He held my hand on a  long journey while I was thinking about a big decision, I didn't want to join the others on the camp bus. I didn't want to speak, to break the spell. It felt like... home.

My Father also taught me that He won't give up. By this point in my life, I know that He knows that I'm gonna stumble. We've got to that stage we can roll our eyes at each other about my little mistakes and nod. Unfortunately, they are not all little. But I know and He knows I know that He's gonna pick me up again. And set me right back on my feet and get me to walk again.

I learned that He's always going to ask me what I want, and why I'm crying. Even if He knows. Which, let's face it, He usually does. He knows I want Him. And - here's the amazing thing - He lets me know He needs me and wants me. Oh, not for support or to help Him carry the water back into the house or even to be there when He's talking to other people. He uses me sometimes then. Sometimes I actually get to translate - if the other person is waiting to understand. Sometimes someone else has translated for me. Still that's not what He needs me for. He needs me. And when I crawl back onto His lap after a long day, even if I'm late, He's waiting for that cuddle. I love Him. And He actually hurts when I forget. 

These days there's been a lot of relationship advice I've needed my Father about. I wonder sometimes if He smiles indulgently. Sometimes my eyes are so blurred with tears that I can't see. Happy tears, mind you. Thinking tears, about how it should be when it does happen. Still I always hear Him. Even with my headphones on, He makes sure... I don't ever remember my Father yelling at me. He's been stern though, firm, sad, decisive... No-nonsense... But no - I don't think He's been mad at me and not in love with me - ever. He never once raised His hand or any other thing in anger.

I know from my Father's eyes that He thinks I'm pretty important. Baby, does that work wonders for my self-esteem! He's kinda that parent rooting for their kid every event. He knows what grade I make, He knows what I want to do next - yet He's not the nosy kind at all. He'll wait for me to tell Him because He knows I trust Him and He expects it. But still He just knows, y'know... Perceptive, my Dad. But when I'm ready to talk - I can just tell He so wants to listen. Of course, He has different ideas from mine. Often. But what's weird is that I talk to Him and I know that I just want to make Him proud. Then again His ideas are so much better - He's known me and the world for longer than I have ;) Sometimes I've been stupid enough to dump His idea completely and do just mine. All these hormones ;)! I've never regretted anything as much. Sometimes what people said has been more important than my Father - He knows now that I am so so sorry. It was wrong for me and it hurt Him. I wouldn't be surprised if the first caused the second. Usually everything I have wanted to do from the bottom of my heart comes from a childhood passion. That passion comes from my Dad's passion. That glow in His eyes when He talks about it. And I know that I know that I'd be good at this - because I'm getting the vision from the wisest, most intimate person I've known in all my life. My Father isn't an old fogey - He's got my name tattooed on His hand. The only tattoo that doesn't turn me aaaalll the way OFF! ;) 

I learned that all this is what Fathers do. I learned to look for these things in my father here. And to remember them. I learned that I have to keep remembering to forgive myself and everyone else because I'm nowhere near as good at it as He is. I learned that if I ever have children, I want my husband and me to love them like my Father did and will. He'll be simply awesome - as always - when they're around, if that should be a blessing I will one day have! I just know this! I learned that who I am grows in Who my family is. I learned that no one else will ever be able to define love for me in the way that my Father does.