Dads and stuff
Not every kid grows up with a Dad around. Not every kid grows up with a Dad who cares.
Not every kid grows up with a Dad who is a friend.
I was almost that kid.
I don’t know my biological father. And that’s ok. It’s not a defining part in my psyche or a chip on my shoulder. It’s just a fact.
What’s also a fact, is that never once in my life did I feel like there was a void. My mom remarried when I was five or something, and I’ve had a Dad who was present ever since. The Dad who may not be blood, but is more engrained in the very fiber of who I am than any blood relative could possibly be. So let me give you the 411 on this guy.
My Dad took a risk in taking my Mom and I in. He will deny it, but he had no idea what kind of person I would grow up to be. Would I accept him as my father? Would I be troubled? Would I listen to him at all? Not to mention, my wonderful mom and I were poor, and she was raising me alone. He gave us hope. He treated my mom like she deserved.
By the grace of God I realized the impact my Dad made at a very young age. I made a vow to myself that he would never have to wonder what I thought of him.
That is why I tell my Dad I love him every time I hang up the phone or go to bed, even though he didn’t grow up in a house that did that. That’s why I give him hugs all the time even though I’m pretty sure it took years for him to feel like it was normal. Maybe men aren’t usually affectionate to each other. I get that. But I certainly never wanted to miss any form of opportunity to let him know what he means to my Mom and me.
Now, I often say, my Mom and I are best friends. Probably not to her face, because I would never hear the end of it. But I say it. She is impulsive, and kind of crazy. Both deceptively endearing qualities. My Dad is very much the opposite. He is a thinker, calm and reserved. But, he is also very much my best friend. And through those two deep and impactful friendships, I have become who I am. I am crazy. I just did a shadow puppet show for the racers in my room, because if you give me an opportunity, I’ll gladly make an idiot of myself. I am also calm and reserved. I don’t let everyone know what I’m thinking, and if I do, it’s usually well thought out. I am my parents son.
Now, back to Dads and stuff. As a kid you get asked a lot who your hero is. Kids usually say, “my Dad”. Well, that usually changes as kids grow up. It never really did for me. The reasons changed a lot. But the answer was always the same.
When I was a child, he was my hero because he was strong. When I was a youth, he was my hero because he was brave. When I was a young adult, he was my hero because he could answer all my questions. When I became an adult, he was my hero because he never stopped me from being me.
Now, you may say, “Your Dad was a police officer, and you became one, so obviously he pushed that on you?”
Wroooong. My Dad was the only one telling me not to do it. When I said, Dad I want to be a pastor. He said, “Sounds risky, but ok.” When I told him I wanted to be a teacher and get my masters, he said, “I think that’s a really good idea”. When I told him I wanted to be a police officer, he said, “What, no, why?!” The reason most likely being that my Dad wanted to be an architect, and instead became a police officer like his Dad. While he enjoyed his job, he didn’t want me to follow in his footsteps but make my own path. That is an incredibly rare quality in a parent. Maybe not in thought, but definitely in practice.
So…here I am. Living in a country called Myanmar that I didn’t know existed until this year. Showering outside and living with worms in my belly! Sure, it’s not glamorous. In fact, it was a downright stupid idea. But being here has made me a drastically better person. It’s a hard path. But it’s the path I chose for myself. Or perhaps more accurately, the path God chose for me. My choice was to be obedient. While it’s hard for a parent to see their kid doing this stuff, he is still more supportive than ever.
You see, the reason the Christian faith came easy for me is that it’s built around the model of a savior. Jesus Christ. Whether he knows it or not, my Dad emulates those Christly qualities. My Dad would die for me. My Dad is generous, patient, humble and kind. So humble, that this whole blog will probably make him uncomfortable. Point being, my belief in God has often come easier to me than others, because God provided me with a father that is very similar to the Biblical qualities of what a father should be.
So, if you had this kind of father, tell them you love them. If you didn’t have this kind of father, then be that man for your current or future children to look up to. If you’re a woman, then marry this kind of man. There is no excuse to settle.
Dad, from the bottom of my heart, thank you for what you have done for this family. You are truly a great man, and a great father. Never once have I questioned that. I know you guys are moving, but I look forward to being home, wherever that may be. I Love You. Happy Father’s Day.
Also, dear Mom, don’t freak out. I’m writing a blog about you next.
