All over my internets today, people are singing the praises of their fathers. Facebook is bogged down with “If ur Daddy was the best Daddy in the Universe, Re-Post this so every1 knows!” status updates. Twitter is even on paternal overload.
But what do I say if my father wasn’t the best in the universe? It hardly seems that today would be the best time to fill my lungs and shout, “MY DAD WAS REALLY PRETTY CRAPPY!” from the top of my blog-mountain, but the truth is the truth, no matter the national holiday.
So, I did what I do, I let it out in 140 characters or less:
And that, my friends, is also the truth. I would take my father’s hurtful, neglectful, pin-in-my-balloon words and deeds over and over again if it meant my daughters didn’t have to ever feel that way; didn’t ever have to hear those things from their own Daddy.
I know that life isn’t set up on a give-and-take, punishment-and-reward scale. I know my kids have a wonderful father, not because I suffered a non-wonderful father, but because that is simply the way it should be. I believe in the Sovereignty of the Lord, I believe that all things work together for the good (though not necessarily the easy, or the fun) of those who love that Lord. I believe I was made stronger by simply having come out of the other side of my childhood intact and not 100% crazytown. I believe my husband was shaped by his (extra-wonderful) father, who allowed his own heart to be molded by the Heavenly Father.
So today is weird for me. I am thankful for the brief shining happy moments I shared with my Daddy. I mourn the loss of our relationship, one that crumbled years before the loss of his life. But I am thankful for him too. He left in me a love of Razorback football, a stubborn spirit (yes, that can sometimes be a good thing), and the blue-eyed gene I passed on to my own babies. I am thankful that I was painted a very clear picture of what not to look for in a husband. I am thankful he taught me how to till a garden, how to drive a car, how to cast a fishing pole. I am thankful that my children’s father is nothing like my own.
Today? Is weird for me.