Monday, June 8, 2015

Held by Daddy


When I went to Church yesterday, I'd already had a general idea of what the sermon was going to be about. I even had a general idea of what was going to be included in that sermon. And, I was prepared for it. After all, I am ok with the decision made by my daughter to put her child up for adoption. In fact, I am incredibly proud of her for it.

But, as the Pastor began reading a letter from a birth mom to her child, a few stray tears escaped my eyes. And, I was ok with that. I really wasn't all that surprised, even though I generally don't cry in public. The words he'd been reading were touching, though, so it made sense I'd react that way. I collected myself, and brushed away the tears once he was done quoting the letter.

But then his sermon continued.

"The Spirit of God empowers us to see the close personal relationship that we have with God, as if we were young children, wanting nothing more than to be held by our daddy." (listen to sermon here)

Wanting nothing more than to be held by our daddy.... this short phrase caused those tears to once again fall. And, in those few short moments, I realized just how much I miss having a daddy to hold me. Wanting to be held by our daddies is not something that is exclusive to young children. Perhaps it's because I no longer have a daddy that this desire is still there (even though I did not realize it is until yesterday). Perhaps it's because my father is still alive, and yet I still do not have a dad to hug me, that the words spoke in that sermon hit me so hard. 

Whatever the reason, it still tugged at my heart, and stirred a longing I'd thought was gone. There was a time when my father was the kind of daddy who kissed my boo-boos, tucked me in at night, and made sure I knew he loved me. There was a time when he held me while I cried, and calmed me when I was frightened. There was a time when he played outside with me, and taught me things, and encouraged my dreams. There was a time when we shared laughter, and love.

And then it was gone. Quickly, and without any good reason, daddy was no longer there even though my father was. There were glimpses of that old daddy from when I was 8 until I was 18, but they were only short lived, and sporadic, and I eventually learned that no matter how hard I tried to find those moments, I could no longer trust or believe that daddy was there at all. Once I left home, all traces of daddy disappeared. I learned to consider him dead. I learned to accept he was gone.

And yet, that longing is still there. It probably has always been there, buried. It will probably always be there.

The knowledge that God is still there as a father - as a daddy - is comforting. The knowledge that no matter what I do, I still have the love of that daddy, is comforting. And yet there are times I find myself struggling to trust in that knowledge. There are times I feel like this daddy, too, will stop comforting me, that He'll stop wrapping His arms around me when I'm hurting; that He'll stop holding my hand when I'm frightened; that He'll stop loving me.

Sometimes, like yesterday, that message that He is always there, and that I am loved, is a message I desperately need to hear. I desperately need to believe. I desperately want to cling to it. I desperately long to strengthen that close personal relationship with Him, wanting nothing more than to be held by my heavenly daddy.

Disqus Shortname

Comments system