Late Father’s Day Post

This is a long one but I felt strongly led to share this today. I spent a great deal of my weekend devouring a book that was so good I read it in one sitting (more on that later).

We celebrated my husband Steve yesterday for Father’s Day. Wonderful time with our kids and a yard full of teenagers again in the evening. Fire pits, roasting marshmallows and fireflies dancing through the trees. It’s the stuff wonderful summers are made of.

This morning, I have enjoyed looking at so many photos (on social media) of people with their dad’s – some living, some black and whites, posted in sweet memory. Some at a gravesite, touching wounds all too tender and recent that it’s not even possible to put words to. Those are sacred.

But as I looked through all the posts that 𝘄𝗲𝗿𝗲 out there, 𝗜 𝗵𝗲𝗮𝗿𝗱 𝗮𝗻𝗱 𝗳𝗲𝗹𝘁 𝘁𝗵𝗲 𝘀𝗶𝗹𝗲𝗻𝗰𝗲 𝗼𝗳 𝘀𝗼𝗺𝗲 𝗼𝗳 𝘆𝗼𝘂 𝗶𝗻 𝗺𝘆 𝗵𝗲𝗮𝗿𝘁. Those of you who are 𝗻𝗼𝘁 able, for whatever reason, to celebrate with or post happy (sometimes goofy) pictures of you and your dad. And all I wanted to say was, “𝗛𝗲𝘆, 𝗶𝘁’𝘀 𝗼𝗸𝗮𝘆. 𝗠𝗲 𝘁𝗼𝗼.”

I know I met my dad a couple of times, but I didn’t really have a relationship with him. He was an alcoholic and abusive. My mom managed to get us away from that when I was maybe 2 or 3?

To this day, 𝗜 𝗵𝗮𝘃𝗲 𝗻𝗼 𝗶𝗱𝗲𝗮 𝘄𝗵𝗮𝘁 𝗵𝗲 𝗹𝗼𝗼𝗸𝗲𝗱 𝗹𝗶𝗸𝗲. There’s not a single picture I can find of him. My parents were both blind, so photos wasn’t really a thing.

I know he and I shared the same birthday. I know that side of my family came over from Germany. I know he had blue eyes. I also know (from one conversation I was able to have with him several years back when he wasn’t drunk) that he received a call on his life at the age of 16 to preach the gospel. He ran from it, and drank it away. And lastly, I learned a couple of years ago that he passed away January 29, 2021 at the age of 78. That’s really all I know, and so the photo frame I have for him, like the one many of you have, remains…empty.

Yes, there have been moments I’ve often wondered. And yes, I would have to admit there’s an empty place in my life that should have been filled by his presence. But in all sincerity, none of that stings anymore. And I am able to fully see and celebrate other great dads and enjoy seeing other people celebrate theirs. It’s not overwhelming. It’s not something I wish I could turn off, like a channel on the TV. I don’t get mad nor do I want to shout out to the world on Father’s Day, “Hey! All you people shut up about your dads already. There’s some of us out here that didn’t have that and it hurts.”

No. But the work of processing the void and healing the anger and hurt had to be done to get me to this point. And if any of this resonates with any of you – I just wanted to share some things that I have done over the years to help me get here.

1.) I let myself process the anger and resentment of it. He should have been there, but he wasn’t.

2.) I forgave my dad years ago. It was time to let that go and it was time to release him from the debt I felt he owed me.

3.) I let God show me what true fatherhood looks like. I didn’t want to carry a distorted view of fatherhood into my future.

4.) I let God take me in as His own daughter and adopt me as His own. (See Psalm 29:10)

5.) I began building new memories with God as my Father. Identifying the places where I felt I had missed something, and inviting God to help me relive the lost moments.

6.) I asked God to let me be the one to redeem what was supposed to be a spiritual inheritance in our family line that he dropped.

7.) I asked God to let me be a minister of reconciliation and healing to the fatherless.

So. To those of you who share the same empty frame and some of the same familiar hurt and void, I pray a blessing over you this Father’s Day. That your heart would be healed. That the thoughts and emotions you’ve locked away within the deep recesses of your heart would be released and let go. That the empty space left behind would start to fill with new memories. That the debt owed to you in the form of fatherlessness would be added back to your life in other ways 100 times over. And that you would come and share in the ministry of hope, healing, and reconciliation for the fatherless.

May the one picture frame that will always remain empty be overwhelmed and overshadowed by endless others that capture the goodness of God in your life.