Month: August 2018

Daddy! Did you see me!?!

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My father and I are not close. I haven’t seen him since my oldest was only 6 months old, and he’s now almost 19 1/2. I’ve tried to bridge the gap, but I have not been met with a desire for a relationship. When I was in high school, I remember looking out at the audience from the choir stand, the band pit, or even from the acting stage, trying to catch a glimpse of my father. He was not usually there to watch me. As I grew up, took on a career, found a bride, and became a father, my father was only present at one of those events, and he wasn’t very happy to be there either. All my life I have vacillated between struggling with feelings of abandonment or feelings of guilt (what did I do?).

Father Heart

When I was in Bible college, my wise mentor gave me a copy of The Father Heart of God by Floyd McClung, Jr. Actually, he required me to read it. It was a hard book to digest. McClung, Jr.’s premise suggests most people have a similar relationship with God as they do with their own father. My relationship with my father was hostile and has become non-existent. The realization was terrifying. I did not, nor do not, want a hostile or non-existent relationship with Abba God! Every once in a while, God reminds me of that book and the lessons held within its covers – usually when I feel very low and abandoned and I find myself saying, “Dad, look what I did!” to an empty seat.

God and I have worked really hard for my worth to not be wrapped up in my earthly father’s approval, and it started with that book. McClung, Jr. challenges his readers to intentionally work on a healthy relationship with our Creator. When I finished reading that book, I vowed to not be the empty seat father.

When my kids were little, we signed them up for gymnastics, soccer, and baseball. It never failed that they would accomplish something difficult and they’d immediately look over to see if I’d seen their accomplishment.”Daddy, did you see me?” was a constant question for a while. Each time I would be there grinning, except once. One time, one of the boys accomplished something he’d been trying to accomplish for many weeks. I was not there to see him. Although it was only walking across the balance beam by himself, it was a big deal! And I had missed it. Since then, I’ve fought my schedule in order to be present when my kids say, “Daddy, did you see me?”

In the past two weeks, each of my boys in their own words has said to me, “Daddy, look at me. Listen to me. See what I did.” All three of them have done so for both praiseworthy and help-needed situations. “Daddy! Did you see me?!?” I almost missed each event. It was as if the Holy Spirit flicked me in the head right before the performance and I found myself completely focused on what was about to happen.

When Amy was here, we had a pretty good system of keeping tabs on the boys: their likes and dislikes, their passions and passes, even their dreams and nightmares. Every once in a while, something would slip by us…almost. Amy had incredible radar. Little got past her. Now that Amy’s gone, I find myself missing a lot more than I ever used to miss.

Last week in prayer, I was overwhelmed; Where are you, God? Are you watching this?!? The answer was clear. Starting in Deuteronomy 31:6 and finishing in Hebrews 13:5, God says, no less than 10 times, “I will never leave you nor forsake you.” God reminded me He’s been watching the whole time. He was there helping me stretch ten dollars into enough for groceries for the week. He was with me when I helped one son overcome a daunting problem. He watched me fumble my words because I had tuned out the constant chatter and missed something important two separate times with two separate kids. Was He mad at me? Did He hurl lightning at me? No. He wrapped me in His embrace and showed me a bigger vantage point with which to look at the last two years.

The next time I feel like God’s not watching, I’m going to remind myself of those 10 verses of promise: “I will never leave you nor forsake you.”

Daddy: A Reckoning … the end?

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brave-quote-by-winnie-the-pooh

“Where’s my dolly?” I hollered as I walked through the aisles of the Christian bookstore where I worked.

It was the summer between my Freshman and Sophomore year in college. The store had been closed for the week while we moved from one location to a bigger, better one just “one mile down the road” as the sign put it. Not having a family or any other things tieing me down, I spent every possible waking hour at the move. I clocked more hours than any of the managers that week. The new store was opening in two days; it was nearly 8:00 p.m. and I was getting a bit punchy.

“Where’s my dolly?”

“Here it is!” called a young-dad-co-worker while holding up a package containing an actual doll. I giggled. He giggled. Within minutes I found the hand-truck (or dolly as I grew up calling them) and was back to work moving stacks of boxes. Two hours later I was in the storage unit behind the store preparing to batten down the hatches so I could go blearily home to find a pillow…any pillow.

“Thom, don’t grow up.” It was a simple statement, but it caught me off guard. I’d spent years listening to people tell me to “grow up!” or “act my shoe size not my age!” (I wore a size 15 shoe 4 years before I turned 15!) Here was someone telling me otherwise.

“What?” I didn’t know whether to be offended or not.

“Thom,” my co-worker started again, noticing my confusion, “I’ve watched many people grow up and get in God’s way. They get stuck in their ways and become a problem within the church. Keep your childlike, not childish, outlook on life. Don’t grow up.”

Every few years, God steers my memories back to that night. Many times as a reminder, sometimes as a warning. This reckoning has been the latter. It all started with a Casting Crowns concert and ended with the movie Christopher Robin, now out in theaters. I did not want to see this movie. I tasked my oldest with taking his younger brothers so that I could have a couple hours of peace and productivity. That’s not what happened. As God engineered the day, I ended up at the theater with all of my children waiting for the like re-telling – or rather continued telling – of the “bear of very little brains.” I knew I’d end up crying at the movie. Lately, I’ve been crying at telephone commercials! I wasn’t prepared for the lesson God set up for me, or rather, I wasn’t expecting it. God’s timing is always on point.

As I watched the movie, I was intrigued by something I’d never seen in Winnie the Pooh or his friends. Each one represents a specific emotion or state of childhood – except Kanga who represents mothers. As God opened my eyes to the profound message He’d laid out for me, I began to ponder these past two weeks and the lesson God’s been trying to teach me. As Piglet’s fear took center stage, followed by Eeyore’s melancholy, and Rabbit’s bossiness and practicality, I began to see myself wandering among the emotions of grief, guilt, single parenting, and exhaustion. I was struggling to see how the rest of Pooh’s friend fit into what God was showing me. When little Roo and Tigger bounded onto the screen, Mark 10: 13ff came at me: “Let the little children come to me, and do not hinder them, for the Kingdom of God belongs to such as these. Truly I tell you, anyone, who will not receive the kingdom of God like a little child will never enter it.”

At that moment, each of the characters in Pooh’s Hundred Acre Wood morphed into the faces of my children at different periods in their life. I saw the exuberance of life, the life-giving joy and wisdom, and the bone-crushing grief and fear. I turned my head in the theater; rivers were washing my cheeks and landing on my collar.

God, I silently prayed, have I grown up and gotten into Your way?!? It was somewhat of a panicked prayer. How can I help my boys best in the upcoming days, weeks, and months? The answer seemed quite obvious. I feel ashamed to admit that the answer was terribly, painfully obvious. Good dads MUST have the faith of a child! And they must view the world through the eyes of a child…God’s child.

I felt pretty stupid sitting there in the theater crying, especially over something so blatantly obvious. After putting my boys to bed after the movie, I crawled up into Abba God’s lap and let Him play with what’s left of my hair while I told him of my fears, my sins, and my dreams for the boys.

I don’t know if God deals with you the same way He deals with me. You probably are much more mature in your walk with Him and your mutual communication probably doesn’t include “walking” or rather talking in circles. This reckoning for me — a re-defined definition and purpose of daddy — has left me with Hope and renewed vigor. Tomorrow I might screw everything up as a dad, but if I go to Abba God first with my wins and failures, He makes all things good for “those who love Him, who have been called according to His purpose” (Romans 8:28). To sum up, to be a good daddy, I’ve got to remember I’m a child myself, and I’ve got to return to a view of the world through the eyes and faith of a child. That’s the best gift I can give my boys right now.

Daddy: A Reckoning pt. 3

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hospital crib

When my oldest was two years old, he’d had so many ear infections he needed surgery. I remember sitting in the prep room with him and Amy, nervous for a positive outcome. I remember thinking, If I could take this from you, I would. Eustachian tubes surgeries are so common, I should not have been nervous, but I was. There’s always a risk with full sedation, but it’s minimal kept replaying over and over in my head.

After the surgery, the nurse escorted Amy and me to our son’s bedside. The sight was a bit shocking to me. The crib he was lying in had significantly tall sides; it almost looked like “baby jail”. The nurse explained the difficulties our son might have coming out of the anesthesia and then left the room.

When Micah began to whine and wake, I lowered the side of the crib and picked him up to soothe him. He immediately stopped whining; however, he began fighting me, trying to get out of my grip. I didn’t realize how strong toddlers could be. It took everything in me to keep a hold of him as he threw his head forcibly backward. Amy suggested I lay him down. I agreed, nearly dropping my flailing son into the crib. As soon as Micah was out of my grip, he started whining and he instantly raised his hands begging to be picked up and held. I picked him up. He instantly began fighting and wailing. I set him down, trying to soothe him in the crib, to no avail. Amy tried as well. For nearly thirty minutes, we rotated through this same pattern. Amy was concerned she would drop him, so I picked Micah up, but she stood at my side, hands on our son, praying. It was an exhausting half-hour. All at once, Micah – while in my arms – stopped fighting and the light in his eyes returned. He looked at me, seemed to recognize he was safe, smiled, then snuggled into my embrace.

At the Casting Crowns concert last week, God reminded me of this almost faded memory. When the band began the chorus of “Just be Held“, I closed my eyes and began weeping. The reckoning had just begun.

“So when you’re on your knees and answers seem so far away

You’re not alone, stop holding on and just be held

Your world’s not falling apart, it’s falling into place

I’m on the throne, stop holding on and just be held

Just be held, just be held”

At first, it was as if I were back in that hospital room, wrestling to soothe my son who knew not what he wanted or needed. Then I saw the image I referred to in part 1 of this series: the picture of me on God’s lap, but this time, He wasn’t playing with my hair, He was trying to hold me as I kicked and screamed. As I focused on the picture in my head, I remember saying, But God, this is too much! I can’t do this! I could be such a better dad, but instead, I’m alone. I don’t know how to parent these kids by myself. It was a prayer of resignation. This can’t be what you planned for their lives! Then I heard more of the lyrics.

“If your eyes are on the storm

You’ll wonder if I love you still

But if your eyes are on the cross

You’ll know I always have and I always will”

If my eyes are on the storm?!? reminded me of another lesson God taught me during my senior year in college. I was in the middle of a different storm: a crisis of identity, a crisis of pain, a crisis of fear. It was the first time God’d used music to speak directly to me. I was at a Point of Grace concert with three very good friends, but I was very much alone. Scott Krippayne was the opening act for PoG. In his set he sang “Sometimes He Calms the Storm” and I was beside myself. The profound message in the song can be reduced to one line: “Sometimes He calms the storm and other times He calms His child.”

I know it wasn’t an audible conversation with God, but my heart knew what He was saying. I am and have recently been the child fighting against my Daddy as He was trying to comfort and care for me. Abba Father has walked this road with me since birth; He’s always been beside me. Over and over, He’s told me, “…I always [have loved you] and I always will.” I have been so focused on the storm of late: Amy’s death and the endless pain it’s caused my boys.

One of the things dads know well is the unavoidable construct of pain. Pain is instructive: “Don’t do that again.” Pain is a warning: “Move your hand off the hot burner!” Pain is also a reminder of loss: “She loved you very much.” A good dad understands that preventing pain is pointless. Pain will happen. Dads know that if pain was removed, we would destroy ourselves. Dads also know that pain builds character. When a dad looks down the road, he instinctively knows what will cause pain. But we still buy our kids their first bicycle. Why? Are we masochists? No. We know that part of life, part of growing up, part of living, is handling pain. We also know pain makes us stronger.

When Micah’s sedatives wore off in that hospital room, he recognized Daddy was holding him. He stopped fighting and wailing. He was content to just be held. When I stopped to listen for God’s voice at the concert, I realized I’ve been missing His direction for me: sometimes dads need their dads – sometimes a dad is just a grown-up boy who needs to stop fighting Abba and just be held.

…finished in Pt. 4…