Last Sunday I was part of the team taking the services in prison. In the run-up to Father's Day we were looking at difficult father-child relationships.
A few years ago I was asked to write something for the Father's day service in church. Now I never knew my father so I wasn't really the best person to ask, but i wrote something that reflected that. I read it in prison last week, and thought it would be good to publish here as well. I shall probably get our old friend, Anonymous, accusing me of being a 'miserable so'n'so' again but I hope others will view it more positively.
I can call him Lord, God, faithful one, saviour, creator, anything, except Father. I can’t call him that.
I never knew my father. He disappeared before I was born. I can only assume he didn't think I’d be good enough to make hanging around worthwhile.
When you’ve never known a father, it’s hard to accept a father’s love. When all you have is an empty space how can you relate to one others call father?
All the parables, all the stories in the world, don’t make it real, can’t fill a void, make known the unknown. You can say, ‘Our father, who art in heaven,’ without feeling a word of it.
And yet.
Most of my life, I’ve lived a half life. But now, I is becoming me. I’m learning how to uncover the person I was created to be.
Through my words, written and read, I’m discovering who I am. My writing is an extension of me, it makes me whole
Through it my thoughts are given shape and substance. I have something worth saying, something worth hearing.
Through my writing I can view myself as valuable, worthy, not because I write or because of what I write but, by its very being, my writing earths my existence. My words are as much part of me as my eyes or my toes. Before finding them, I was missing an element as vital to my well-being as calcium is to my bones.
Releasing them allows me to be me, wholly me.
And the key to that release has been meeting God, being accepted into his family.
So I live in that new life, no longer a fatherless child. Instead one whose family has demonstrated a father’s love and allowed me to experiment, learn, develop and build confidence without fear of being knocked back.
I used to think that growing up without a father was my loss but maybe it was his.
I still can’t call God Father but one day, when we meet, it’ll be the only word I’ll need.
12 comments:
Oh, Liz...this was beautiful. Are we twins, by chance?? You took the words right out of my mouth..I can't believe how similar we are in our thoughts about God and about writing. If I didn't have writing, I'd curl up and die. I did know my father...he died last year at the age of 83...and tho I loved him dearly, we had a very complex relationship dating back to the very beginning. This entry truly touched my heart.
Just to let you know, I think I came up with a disappearing comments solution! When I write it, I now copy it...and if it doesn't publish the first time, I just keep pasting it 'til it DOES! I mean...DUH!!!! Why didn't I think of that ages ago?!? LOL! Ah well...it's a new lesson learned, eh?
Thank you for sharing this with us, Liz, and for sharing all your wonderful words every day.
A beautiful piece of writing, Liz . §Not knowing you is / was your father's loss but I'm sure he didn't leave because he didn't think YOU were goingto be good enough. I'm sure he thought HE wasn't and that is sad, too. You express perfectly how you have found yourself through writing and the way you relate to God. Ienvy you your faith.
Another wonderfully moving piece Liz
However please don't think that I can only assume he didn't think I’d be good enough to make hanging around worthwhile. could be the only reason he was not there for you.
I too left my own boys when admittedly they were a lot older, but looking back, it was the worst thing I have done in my life and I still don't know why I was so screwed up to think it would be OK.
Such power in your words, Liz. It was definitely his (your earthly father's) loss. Beautiful writing.
What an articulate piece of writing, Liz, you express yourself so well. I started off with a father, then he left and someone else's kids called him dad. My mother remarried and I had the most wonderful stepfather who was a father to me in every way, I was devastated when he died 12 years ago.
I count myself very lucky to have had this wonderful man in my life, as much for my mum too, as well as me.
Thank you for that, Liz. I was able to reflect on my own life and appreciate the good things.
By the way, why would anyone want to call you miserable...a case of pots and kettles perhaps?
Something along the lines you were talking about : link.
Liz I am sorry you didn't get to know your father. You are a beautiful person without his influence.
This is so lovely, Liz... thank you for writing it!
It's amazing how powerful it can be to quantify your thoughts in written form. Few people realize this as vividly as you clearly do.
This is a great post and I should have read it before I answered you comment at my blog.
Lee said the same thing about her father leaving before she was born too. What was wrong with these men? Too immature? Well you did fine anyway.
Congratulations and to you Mum too.
Lovely post...perhaps your father left because he didn't think he could live up to YOU, as others have also said. My father has been gone two years now and I know he's happier wherever he is than he was in the nursing home. But it's still strange to celebrate Father's Day without him.
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