Daddy's Girl

There is nothing quite like a bond between a girl and her father. However, I will be the first to admit something. I am really not that close to my father. Years of heartbreak and bad choices made it that way, but I don’t like it one bit. Deep down I have always been a daddy’s girl and longed to be close to my father. Why? You might ask. Well I really don’t know, I just do. Sure my dad has made mistakes and hurt me in the past, but haven’t we all made mistakes and hurt someone? The same Son of God that hung cursed on a tree and died for me and my sins, died for him too. I forgive my dad for the past hurts, just as Christ forgives me. This doesn’t mean I have forgotten what he did or that the pain isn’t there anymore. It’s always there…I will never forget this side of Glory. This doesn’t mean I don’t struggle sometimes with forgiving him. Notice I didn’t say I have forgiven him, but that I forgive him. It’s a constant action, a decision I make daily. When the pain comes back to haunt me will I let it eat me up with bitterness? Or will I choose to let it go once again and forgive? Most days I choose to let it go. I will be honest…some days I am just plain bitter and I wrestle with God over it. Until He hits me on the head with this realization once again and it brings me to tears and I unclench my fists and let go. The realization that the nail scarred hands and the pierced brow from a crown of thorns was a result of Jesus dying not just for me, but for him too. And so, while sometimes it hurts tremendously, I love my dad.

My dad, the man who broke my heart and made me not want to love again, is looked on in a different light. With God’s grace I can remember the good times, as few as they may seem to me. We moved to the Panhandle of Florida and the Gulf Coast when I was just about to turn 5 years old. I instantly fell in love with the white as snow sandy shores, and the emerald green waters. This was a love I shared with my dad. Lovers of the beach, we were, longing to catch a glimpse of God’s glory at the seashore. Days of swimming with him at the beach, and riding on the back of his wave runner come to mind. We raced across the waves and the spray from the sea hit our faces. I remember one time we came across dolphins, a mother with a baby, and rode along with them. I am thankful for these memories that I can cherish, that I can recall when the bad memories try to pry their way into my heart.

Memories of my dad don’t have to be all bad. Whenever I take out a piece of paper and start to doodle or draw, I am reminded of my mom telling me once “You must have gotten that from your dad. I can only draw stick people.” While I may not be the best with art, I got any abilities I do have for drawing from my father. And my love of history and World War 2, where does that stem from? Sure my mom likes history a bit as well, but my dad used to eat it up with movies and books. I am like my dad in that respect too.

Some people don’t have any good memories with their dads. I do. I am realizing more and more how blessed I am because of this. Sure I have my share of the bad memories, but they are not all I have. And who says I have to focus on them? I pray that the only time I make mention of the bad memories is so I can use my experiences to help someone else in their walk. Not to try and get pity, or share a sob story, but to let those going through some of the same things know this: I understand. I was there too. And most importantly, God understands. He knows what you are going through. You are not alone. It’s easy to feel alone when you are living in the midst of bad memories, when you let Satan whisper lies to your heart and you start to believe them. Lies that you are all alone. But you are not! Jesus says, come to me all who are weary and heavy burdened and I will give you rest. If you are weary or heavy burdened, will you come to Him today? Come to the one who will give you true rest and know You are NEVER alone!