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Reflecting on my Father
By Marc | March 31, 2008
Over the weekend, I was in sole charge of our boys while Julie was at Women of Faith. There are some things about the experience that I did fairly well, and a few that I failed miserably. But, whatever the outcome, it was time with just us, and I’ve been thinking about my own father and my responsibilities to my sons.
My father left us when I was pretty young, I’m pretty sure when I was three or four. I’m not positive because my age at the time isn’t something I’ve obsessed about. But, anyway, one of my earliest memories is that of my sister and me holding on to his legs, begging him not to go. Again, I was very young, so that event may be fuzzy.
I saw him once or twice within the next year or two and then nothing. Then next time I met the man was at sixteen, when my mother and younger siblings traveled to Oklahoma for my sister’s high school graduation (long story).
There were some physical similarities (okay, I’m a carbon copy of him), but I despised him but didn’t know him at all. How dare he ditch us and then make this meager attempt so many years later! Whenever the term “deadbeat dad” (a term I hate that has become an automatic definition for any divorced father with a bitter ex) came up, I instantly pictured him. I would refer to him as either my “biological father” or the “sperm donor”.
But again, I knew nothing of him except a few details and some rumors. My primary source of information was the only person who was there for all of it, Mom. Bless her heart, I don’t doubt her memory or her love for us, but she had (and probably still has) strong feelings toward my father that rubbed off on me. And until a few years ago, I hated him as much as I could hate someone.
Then, a few years ago, I went to a Promise Keepers conference. Aside from being the most inspiring and fun event that I could spend with a few thousand Christian men, I came away with one important message that I will always remember:
Whatever your relationship with your father, you cannot deny his gifts to you. Whatever and whoever you are, a part of him lives in you. His genetic makeup and appearance passed on to you makes you unique. You can’t reap the benefits of what you are able to accomplish without acknowledging the source.
My heart toward my father changed. I didn’t bitterness toward him anymore. I love the man. Because of what I know of him, I don’t know if I could expose my sons to him unless I hear for a fact that he’s changed his ways. I haven’t had contact with him and don’t know how to, but I’ve forgiven him in my heart.
I don’t want to pass on my foul feelings to my kids. I want to be a good dad to them. I want to be someone they can look up to and hopefully emulate. My responsibilities to them include providing for their needs, loving them, teaching them, and serving as a good role model. I know I’m stronger on some aspects than on others, but I’m trying and hope they continue to look up to me.
Finally, on an almost unrelated note, I have a stepfather Mom married (and has they have since divorced), who cared for my sister and I as if we were his own. I also never noticed any favoritism between us and the children he sired, except for the differing treatment on account of age. Even though he no longer has legal ties to me, he is still a part of my life and that of my family. He has his faults like anyone else, but he became a dad when I needed one, and that makes me very very fortunate.
Topics: Encouragement, Life and Living |
