I chew on my lower lip and stare blankly ahead. Should I write? If I do, what should I write about?
Father’s Day. Backspace. | | |
Coming up with a great post on Father’s Day is diffcult, and I’m not a bit surprised about myself. I haven’t been a daddy’s girl. No one among my three siblings has been a daddy’s girl or boy. My father was rarely at home, sourcing out funds for all four children enrolled in private schools. And when he was home, he was always the cold one, just watching the evening news or sleeping on the sofa with mouth ajar.
I listen to the song “Dance With My Father” and my heart ache a bit when I cannot find memories of me and my dad dancing or even playing. All I see is a father reaching out, not to give me a hug, but a whip on my thigh using his leather belt.
I grew up envying my friends for having fathers who provided well and still spent time with them. There was a part of me that loathed cringed at the idea of attending my three bestfriends’ debut party because I know I would see their dads, all suited up, crying (not about the venue and catering that costed them a lot but) at the sight of their little girl– the baby they used to hold in their arms– turning into a lovely lady. And it always crushed my heart to know that my father would never be like theirs; leading his family to God, giving his daughter advices, teaching her to live and win in life, and just reassuring her that she is special, loved, and worthy to be pursued by noble men.
I was never going to have a dad like that. So I thought and lived by that gnawing emptiness. Until one beautiful day, I met Jesus and learned that through His redemptive work on the cross, I am now adopted into God’s family.
For he chose us in him before the creation of the world to be holy and blameless in his sight. In love he predestined us to be adopted as his sons through Jesus Christ, in accordance with his pleasure and will
God is now my Father; I am His daughter. I now have a Father who loves, protects, guides, cheers, comforts, counsels, affirms, reassures, rescues, secures, teaches, trains, and provides for me.
My earthly father is not perfect, not even close to ideal. But it’s through my heavenly Father’s love that I can forgive, accept, love, and honor Tatay as he is. (Tears well in the corner of my eyes as I type). I’m very thankful that my father is still alive. We may not have good memories but we still have a lot of chance to make new and beautiful ones. I’ve decided to surrender the bitterness from the past, to learn to treasure the gift of today, and to look forward to God’s promise of a brighter future.
Unlike my Mama aka Lola Techie, my Tatay is not computer suave. I will be inking down a version of this for him to read. I’ll tell him I love him no matter what. But to all other fathers out there, Happy Father’s Day!