this one's for you, pops.

My father, my hero.


And the more I get to know him, the more I realize that I am so much like him.  There's no sweeter feeling than being 23, truly financially independent, and perpetually having $19 in the bank, only to find that a surprise $200 deposit has been made. 


Loved.  I am loved.  And I know it because of the presence and actions of my father.


Just now I got a phone call from my dad informing me of the happenings of his television series about Big Foot, and to tell me how glad he is that we talk as much as we do.


I could melt away in the complete sweetness of his words right now.
But it hasn't always been like this.


Somewhere about 2 years ago, I found myself not really knowing him at all.  This is all so ironic given that my earliest memories date back to moments where my dad chose me before anyone else in the world.


I'm not really sure how it happened.  "Life happened", as they say.  And as I grew up, and as my heart got broken, I pushed him away, played the blame game, and burned some of the only bridges I had with him.




Flash Forward: As my heart mended, I started to see things differently.  I started to see him differently. 


I found myself in a place of needing to know my father.  Needing to trust my father.  And as I said before, the more I got to know him, his quirk, his mannerisms, his hopes for the world, what he dreamed of, the more i saw myself in him.


Maybe that's why it was so easy to cut him off in the first place.  Because as someone who can feel so easily misunderstood, it was easy to just assume that he misunderstood me as well.  I'm sure he felt the same way, to an extent.



I'm starting to see with whole, new eyes though.  And that just wasn't the case.




The truth. My dad has given up so much for me.  He has preferred me, he has chosen me before himself. Faithfully. Without me ever really asking for it.  In the times of my most stubborn independence, he's stood by closely.  I've not always understood the methods to his love, and honestly they've driven me crazy more than once, but now I think I'm starting to get it.




My favorite thing that he's given me?


My unruly hair and my tender heart.
No one, no circumstance will ever be able to take that from me.




I find myself proud of my dad.  Proud of his journey, proud of where he's been, proud of where he's going, proud to call him mine. I'd never ever wish for another.  Now that I know his story, I'm convinced it needs to be shared with the world.


My father is a courageous man.











Where am i going with this?


Dads.  We need you.
Children and Friends, we need to be reconciled.






I, for one, couldn't fully love another until I learned to look into the eyes and love the ones closest to me (i.e. my parents, of course). I'm not sure I could fully be a woman until then.  Learning who my father really is, and what he is really like, has changed everything.  




Reconciliation.  To be Reconciled. "To restore friendly relations."



I think that our relationship with our parents give us filters for how we perceive the world, God, and ourselves.


These filters are, of course, redeemable, but they're at least worth examining first.




There is a great reaping of wisdom and life when we can understand how where we come from comprises the person that we are.


Inheritance.



Examine your heart. Examine your dad. Examine your filters.  Whatever you need to do to be reconciled, do it. 



You owe it to yourself. 

Your story probably won't be the same as mine.
But you owe it to yourself, in it's time, in your time, to face those demons. You'll be glad that you did, eventually.  




Courage is always, always, always worth it.  
Take it from my dad. :)

Let's talk.

-b.