about dads
Let me tell you about my Pops.
When I was little, oh maybe 4 or 5, my family was going to take a trip to Montana to visit my grandparents. I was so looking forward to it, but for some reason at the last minute (and I do mean that we were in the van getting ready to leave) it wasn't going to work for us to go at that time. Knowing myself, I think that I was probably throwing a bit of a fit because I had eagerly anticipated this trip and was being denied that which I desired.
I still remember this very clearly. My dad looked me directly in the eyes and told me that he knew he had promised this and he hated to break that promise and if I would hold him to that promise we would make the trip. I knew at that moment looking into my dad's eyes that if I insisted he would have gotten in the van and driven to Montana and back because he said he would. From that moment on I have always believed my dad when he said something because I knew that he would keep his word, no matter what it cost him.
When I was thirteen, I rolled a 4-wheeler helping move cattle on our ranch. In the roll, I hyper-extended and dislocated my elbow, and then I accidentally put it back into place by myself. My dad was the first one on the scene, and when I told him that I thought my arm was broken, he started crying over me. I was the one telling him that it would be okay, but he was crying because his little girl was hurt.
One summer about 4 years ago, I tried to get my dad to start running with me. He said no enough times that I stopped asking, and then I stopped running myself. One morning, though, he came into my room very early and asked if I would go running with him. I said yes, and we started running together. I don't think either of us knew what that would mean in our lives, but it was the start of very many good things. That summer began a path of healing for both of us.
We decided to train for a marathon that fall. About two months before the marathon, he got a stress fracture in his leg and had to stop running for a while. He decided that he would run the half while I ran the full because he hadn't been able to train as much. And then just a few weeks before the marathon he felt that he was supposed to run the full with me. He finished about 45 minutes before me, and then he ran the last stretch across the finish line with me. We cried and hugged. My dad looked me in the eyes and told me that he was so proud of me.
When my dad says that he is proud of me, I know that it isn't because of anything that I have done because I have done many things that are not worth being proud of, but he is proud of me because of the person I am and the person I am striving to be. I know that there is nothing I can do that would make my dad love me less or stop being proud of me, simply because he is my dad.
Sadly in our society this kind of experience with a dad is getting rarer and rarer. This breaks my heart because dad's are so important. Girls need a dad to show them how men should treat them, to show them their worth and value. Boys need a dad to show them how to be a good man and how to bring strength to the people around them in the best way possible. It is becoming more and more common to have absent dads whether that is physically or mentally absent. I grieve for those who have not had a dad like mine.
But at the same time I rejoice because I know that everyone has a Dad who will never leave them, who is always present with them and who is infinitely better than any earthly dad ever will be. My Abba Papa is faithful. He will always keep His word. He cries over my hurts, my wounds, my afflictions. He calls me to do things I don't think I can do, and He goes every step of the ways with me. He looks upon me with a deeper affection and caring than anyone else ever can.
I think that is what I love most about my dad; everything about him points me back to my Dad. My Pops is truly a picture to me of what it means to experience God as Father. For those who don't have a dad like that, I pray that you may come to experience God as your Abba Papa because He alone is the Perfect Dad.
When I was little, oh maybe 4 or 5, my family was going to take a trip to Montana to visit my grandparents. I was so looking forward to it, but for some reason at the last minute (and I do mean that we were in the van getting ready to leave) it wasn't going to work for us to go at that time. Knowing myself, I think that I was probably throwing a bit of a fit because I had eagerly anticipated this trip and was being denied that which I desired.
I still remember this very clearly. My dad looked me directly in the eyes and told me that he knew he had promised this and he hated to break that promise and if I would hold him to that promise we would make the trip. I knew at that moment looking into my dad's eyes that if I insisted he would have gotten in the van and driven to Montana and back because he said he would. From that moment on I have always believed my dad when he said something because I knew that he would keep his word, no matter what it cost him.
When I was thirteen, I rolled a 4-wheeler helping move cattle on our ranch. In the roll, I hyper-extended and dislocated my elbow, and then I accidentally put it back into place by myself. My dad was the first one on the scene, and when I told him that I thought my arm was broken, he started crying over me. I was the one telling him that it would be okay, but he was crying because his little girl was hurt.
One summer about 4 years ago, I tried to get my dad to start running with me. He said no enough times that I stopped asking, and then I stopped running myself. One morning, though, he came into my room very early and asked if I would go running with him. I said yes, and we started running together. I don't think either of us knew what that would mean in our lives, but it was the start of very many good things. That summer began a path of healing for both of us.
We decided to train for a marathon that fall. About two months before the marathon, he got a stress fracture in his leg and had to stop running for a while. He decided that he would run the half while I ran the full because he hadn't been able to train as much. And then just a few weeks before the marathon he felt that he was supposed to run the full with me. He finished about 45 minutes before me, and then he ran the last stretch across the finish line with me. We cried and hugged. My dad looked me in the eyes and told me that he was so proud of me.
When my dad says that he is proud of me, I know that it isn't because of anything that I have done because I have done many things that are not worth being proud of, but he is proud of me because of the person I am and the person I am striving to be. I know that there is nothing I can do that would make my dad love me less or stop being proud of me, simply because he is my dad.
Sadly in our society this kind of experience with a dad is getting rarer and rarer. This breaks my heart because dad's are so important. Girls need a dad to show them how men should treat them, to show them their worth and value. Boys need a dad to show them how to be a good man and how to bring strength to the people around them in the best way possible. It is becoming more and more common to have absent dads whether that is physically or mentally absent. I grieve for those who have not had a dad like mine.
But at the same time I rejoice because I know that everyone has a Dad who will never leave them, who is always present with them and who is infinitely better than any earthly dad ever will be. My Abba Papa is faithful. He will always keep His word. He cries over my hurts, my wounds, my afflictions. He calls me to do things I don't think I can do, and He goes every step of the ways with me. He looks upon me with a deeper affection and caring than anyone else ever can.
I think that is what I love most about my dad; everything about him points me back to my Dad. My Pops is truly a picture to me of what it means to experience God as Father. For those who don't have a dad like that, I pray that you may come to experience God as your Abba Papa because He alone is the Perfect Dad.
I love this Melissa. Sharing it on my 5 Things page. :)
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