Fear

Daddy. I used to hate that word. I would only use it if I thought it would increase my chances of obtaining the item(s) I was asking for. Daddy is a term of endearment. And quite frankly, I didn’t feel that way. You could classify me as one of the many grown-up children who has “father figure” issues. I have been to enough camps and conferences to know that God desires to heal this issue for good in me. But being wounded by a parent is not your typical forgive formula. Parents are always coming up with new ways to remind you of the past pain they have caused.

 

I am only reflecting on this right now, because my dad is in surgery. He has had a round ball growing in his stomach for around two years, and had adamantly refused to have it looked at. He finally did, as you have probably already guessed, and is now having his grapefruit sized hernia removed. Talk about procrastination, right? It brings many mixed emotions for me. The men in my father’s family don’t live very long. They usually get cancer and the sudden decay is more than anyone can take. I am very relieved that it is just a hernia… and irritated at the same time. 

I know that it was probably his own crippling fear that caused him to delay looking in to this matter sooner. But why didn’t he? Doesn’t he want to be around to see his grandchildren grow up? Or even witness the grandchildren yet to be born? Like I said, it’s probably fear, but all I can hear is selfishness. I do want him around, but ironically, on my terms. I want to be able to understand him, and be able to explain him to my kids. I dread the day my girls will ask why Grandpa and Mimi aren’t married. What do I say? “Yes girls, that’s right. Grandpa chooses to not get married. Yes girls, God doesn’t like it…”  I know this so well, because I have already had those conversations with him.

 

As a teen and even up until recently, I thought I had to be ok with him in order to be in relationship with him. Like everything had to be perfect. But it is far from that. I am now learning to be in relationship with him the same way God is with me. Yeah, I have majorly goofed up, quite a bit actually. And no, things are not perfect. But God loves me and desires to be in relationship with me, even in the midst of my imperfection. When I start to think of my dad as just a man, it’s a lot easier. My expectations always run a little high… 

Daddy is now a wonderful word. Last week, Abigail was naming the people in a family photo. When she came to Stephen’s face, she uttered the words “my daddy.” I cried. Who knew that it would take this long to finally be at peace with calling God “daddy?” Now I get the mean of “Abba Father.” I have heard the words plenty of times, in great sermons mind you. But it took Abby saying them for me to finally get it. And I want to get it. I want to barely whisper “my daddy” with my head tilted and a slight smile across my face. It was beautiful. 

Pray for my Dad. He is scared. He didn’t decide to let his kids know he was going into surgery until 20 minutes before he went in. Fear can be more crippling and damaging than we realize. It can keep us out of relationship with those we long to be close to.