Come Home

Last week was full of mourning.
A few things were legitimate, the loss of one of my very best friends in high school, Caleb "Bubba" Manning, as well as the loss of my stepfather in the same year.
Two years now.

And although the third is just as legitimate, I spend a lot of time dwelling on it.
The loss of a relationship I've never known.
A relationship with my biological father.

It came on suddenly. I felt somewhat mopey and I thought it'd pass.
We'd spent the night in my church study talking about our names, the phrase "children of God" and what we, as Christians, stand to inherit.
I felt fine.
And then I read this post by Donald Miller.
The mopey-ness turned into a wave of grief, of loss, of want.
I spent that night crying, and the rest of the week reading more of Don Miller (I had committed to finishing Father Fiction) and taking time to actually engage with the deepest wound I feel I possess.

And it was ultimately through the grief, the knowledge of the Truth of being loved with an unending love, a love I cannot fathom...all while wrestling with all of my insecurities and questions,
came this.

It was like a breath of fresh air. To not just feel loss and want of something I never had, but to actually work through it. It was a small victory despite the pain. The first time I actually saw something beautiful come out of the pain, the hurt, the messiness.

I'm not saying a neat little (or big) bow was tied. The week got harder, there was more God wanted to work through; more I didn't want to show him. I wanted to avoid the pain of touching my bruise.

I personally thought we were done. I thought the band aid had been secured and I was free until the next time symptoms of this severed relationship popped up again.
I was wrong.

I like music; I like listening to music before I go to bed.
I decided to listen to a song I had listened to, and really liked.
"Come Home" by OneRepublic and Sara Bareilles.

And although I doubt the song is meant to illustrate a little girl's plea for Daddy to come home, that is just what it meant for me.

come home, come home
'cause i've been waiting for so long
so long

and the fight for you is all i've ever known

That phrase stopped me, "and the fight for you is all I've ever known". It made me think that is the way I've lived my life. My fight for my father is all I've ever known. I don't know what it looks like to live without fighting for my father. I've lived my life waiting, yearning, wondering about my father. Wanting my father.

And then I saw myself. I saw myself standing in front of my earthly father, Jesus standing between us. The song still played in my ears, and I saw myself reaching around Jesus, reaching for my father. My reach was close, but far enough that I couldn't actually touch him.
My reaches became frantic, slamming my body against Jesus' undoubtedly bruising myself. Hurting Jesus in my zeal to reach my dad.

Wanting so much for my father to come home. Come home to me.

And suddenly I lunged one last time.
One final reach for my father.
And almost as if I knew it wouldn't be enough, my final reach melted into Jesus' body.
Weeping, I finally allowed Him to embrace me.
My brokenness, my dreams, my pursuit of redemption.

I spent the next day sitting in that.
How much time have I dwelled on what I don't have instead of what I do?
I've spent years letting the lack of this relationship define who I am, instead of letting the reality of my Heavenly relationship tell me who I am.

I had to realize that my non-existent relationship with my biological father
is a part of my story,
it's not the story.

I can look forward to the journey my Papa is taking me on,
the adventure He has for me,
the people and places I love meshing into one.
The untold story of the woman I am becoming.

And for what's to come,
I give Him all the glory.

Amen.

Some days I actually get a glimpse of

whole.
Feeling perfect goodness, grace, and mercy in every fiber of my
being.
Ready to follow His whisper and what he has for me,
wherever He leads.

Everyday is the question,
what do you see in me?
The question of a little girl whose hand still reaches out
to see if Daddy will grasp it.
The need to know that you see me,
that you find my laugh gracious, that you see me as delightful.

Some days tears fall from my eyes because
I'd like to think that I'm a catch.
A woman who has grown into a mature, beautiful, courageous
woman of God.
Yet doubt lingers in my head, my heart, and demands more and more
of those I love, those who love me.

Everyday is the yearning to follow, to know,
to believe.
To suddenly feel Your hand already in mine, your eyes swelling with pride
as you see me.
And to hear you say,
"Doubt no more, you are mine,
beloved."

as i sat by the ocean, you said, "let go."

and Dad, although it's taken me a while to get here,
i think i'm there.

ready to walk away and not be bitter, not be resentful.
i understand why you blessed me with him,
why we're such good friends and the amazing
redemption
that i've received as i've seen more of his soul.
more of mine.

the more i look into his face
into his character,
i see You.

i see the ways he strives to please you,
love you,
honor You.

he's pledged his life to you,
and Daddy,
that's a beautiful thing.

his heart is beautiful,
the way he cares for me
the way he loves his family
although it's difficult,
there's been disappointment

i see the way he's following You,
following You to the cross day after day
praising You along the way
praying that you'll make his heart
more and more like yours.

it is.
every day.

this is rare.

it is rare when i let myself re-enter childhood.
no, not the parts of my childhood where i reveled in running through the sprinklers with my sisters, planting roses with Mom, or making a mess in the kitchen with my aunt.

the part when dad would re-enter the family, cook up a storm, pretend everything was okay as my sisters and i looked at each other confused, how do we play the part of daddy's girls?

we watched the news over dinner. we should be just as informed as daddy, sitting there wanting to share the sticker i got for reading well at school today, the spelling test i aced, or the fact that i was chasing a boy around during recess. his eyes stayed on the screen.

we played with our dog. the dog who seemed to listen to everything we said and got defensive when this stranger would enter our home. dad would eventually get annoyed at his protectiveness and kick him. dad couldn't understand our love for that pup.

i always got nervous after our hugs and kisses good night to daddy. i was always afraid of leaving him alone with mom. soon after we made it up to bed, my sisters and i cracked the door open to hear what they were arguing about next, what dad was throwing across the room, listening for the sounds of skin hitting skin... waiting if we needed to make an appearance.

waiting for night to end and the pretense of another day to begin.

i've been wrestling with the parts of myself i don't want to engage with. the parts that are messy, wounded, upset, healing (still). the parts of me that do not believe that complete healing is possible. that freedom is too elusive.

this time i choose to engage.
thanks, A for pushing me on this night.
thank you Jesus for sitting with me.

i'm not an elephant.

i forget. a lot.

in the times i've spent with jesus this week, i realize that he's doing a lot of things in me.
many of them i was already aware that he's been doing; shaping, molding, refining.

yet, as i sat down today my selfish thoughts of having someone to hold my hand and lean my head against their shoulder became dominant yet again.
instead of thanking God for peace amidst this week of exams and another week of finality, i kept thinking about what i don't have. what i want.

yes, i want a relationship.
i get pretty stubborn about that.

i mope, groan, whine and complain about "why not?" "why not now?" and "but what if...?"
i sit like a spoiled brat on the sidewalk (after storming out of the house for dramatic effect), hoping that her Daddy will come and sit beside her and ask "What's wrong?" "Why are you upset?"
And today, although i was being a spoiled child, and should have been left to remember the lesson again,
He sat next to me, held my hand and said,
You can put your head on my shoulder if you want to.

Jesus, I forget that you know everything about me. That you know the things I want, why I want them and that you hurt when I hurt. Thank you for constantly reaching out to me, giving me the desires of my heart even when I don't deserve them.

a new day

"let the beloved of the LORD rest secure in him,
for he shields her all day long, and the one the
LORD loves rests between his shoulders."
deuteronomy 33:12

it's 4:30 am. a part of me really wants to sleep and yet the other wants to stay awake and see the sunrise; after all, each morning is another chance to be with God. i like the idea of a sunrise, the sacrifice of waking up for it as well as seeing that beauty while sitting with God and being able to tell him how wonderful it is to do so.

the verse. it was given to me on a sunday morning as i reflected on my own insecurities and wants. i am called to "rest secure" and let God shield me from what is not from Him.
my favorite part is the last line, "the one the LORD loves rests between his shoulders," i remember i had an image of me sitting on God's shoulders, like a daughter with her daddy. it is still an image that makes my heart fill with joy. i thank Him greatly for that, it may be why i cling to this verse so tightly.

i think i'll turn in for an hour or so. :)

Dad

I remember loving you.
It bothers me that I still do.

I thought as I got older that the feelings of needing you in my life would cease
but they continue to intensify
to ferment
and grow into something that i can no longer tuck away
behind school, surface relationships with guys and meaningless weekends spent watching television and reading countless novels.

i though i would outgrow you
not need you
and pretend that i don't
and now i lay in my bed at night wondering why you didn't stick around

i now understand that it wasn't anything i did
you just couldn't own up to fathering me
but it kills me inside that i wish you had
that i wish that you were sitting beside me holding my hand as i cry

i feel tension as i think of you
walking down the street hand in hand
and me looking up at you
swelling with such pride
and calling you my daddy

what do i do with that?
the emotions that everyone says i should not have
emotions that rationally should not exist after the pain
the pain of 21 long years while you were absent

the best description of you and i
is Father of Mine by Everclear
"my daddy gave me a name/and then he walked away"
you did. you were so insistent on naming me
and then you walked away like i didn't mean a thing

did that hurt you?
did you ever look back?
did you ever regret leaving three precious ones behind?

do you think of me?
do you even wish i knew you?
do you long to know me like i do you?

i hate this feeling of loving you
even though what you did to me doesn't have a name
it should never happen to anyone
i should not feel this resentment and yet still hope at knowing and loving you

i can only wonder if these feelings will eventually explode if and when we meet
i can only pray that we do
for your sake
i can only ask for someone to love me the way you were intended to

but even that isn't enough

1.14.09