I was lying in bed this morning holding my daughter, watching her smile and giggle, looking up at me with eyes filled with love and joy as I kissed her nose and forehead and bit her little cheeks. I laid her on her belly and watched her struggle to find her coordination as she attempted to crawl for the first time, making progress but still not getting the hang of it. At one point she almost fell off the bed, but I grabbed her before she could hurt herself, gathered her in my arms and kissed her little nose again, which brought her to a fresh round of giggles. Then I put her back on her belly so she could try again.
I love my daughter and she will always know that as long as I am alive to tell her. I'll always be there to catch her if she falls and kiss her little nose and put her back on her feet because that's what fathers do. That's what we expect of them. We expect a father to protect and provide for his children, to hug them,and nurture them, and let them know that they are never alone. We expect them to prevent injury when they can and relieve hardships when they are able. We don't expect them to let their children starve when they are able to feed them, to let them suffer when they are able to soothe them, to let them feel alone and unloved when we are able to hold them and love them. We expect a father to show his love through his presence, through his actions, and through his words. These are our expectations of our earthly fathers. They are lofty but infinitely attainable and not unreasonable for even the most flawed among us. Should our expectations of our father who art in heaven be less than these?
I look at my beautiful daughter's face and I wonder what it would be like for her if she only knew me through what she'd read about in a book or heard others say about me? I wonder what it would be like if she'd never heard my voice or felt my arms around her? If I'd never kissed her on the nose and made her laugh? I wonder how easy it would be for her to have faith in a father she'd never even seen? If it would be fair of me to expect her to love me or to believe that I love her? I wonder what it would be like if she sent me letters and emails and left messages on a voicemail hoping that I would hear her and reveal myself to her, that I would appear on her doorstep one day and gather her into my arms, catch her when she fell, or mend her wounds after she's fallen, not ever knowing if there was anyone on the other end listening? Not ever getting any confirmation of my presence? I wonder if she would think her mother was a liar if she was to tell my daughter that her absentee father loved and adored her? I wonder how she would feel about others who claimed to know me or to have seen me or spoken to me? I wonder how she would feel as she looked into each supposed sighting of me and found not one credible story, not one that she could verify or authenticate? As she heard one conflicting story after another? I wonder if she would begin to doubt not only my love but my entire existence? I wonder what kind of love and trust I could reasonably expect from a child for whom I'd never been anything more than a fairy tale and an occasional check in the mail, a miracle that others attributed to her father but which could have just as easily come from the IRS or a secret admirer? I wonder about the intelligence of anyone who would call such a father loving and good.
I wonder this now as I hold my daughter on my lap, listening to her snore as I type away. And I know that she will never have to go through any of that because she will never have but one father and I will never let her down.
5 comments:
I can answer all of those questions for you. She would end up a person frightened of love, one who is completely, hopelessly and utterly broken. Someone who would never know happiness because she would never, ever believe she could trust a man.
http://www.livejournal.com/tools/memories.bml?user=fuctbydesign&keyword=Finding+my+father&filter=all
Hey Nikki. I can't seem to access that link. I'll have to hunt through your blog for it.
I agree that were anyone's earthly father to act this way they would be utterly devastated. How then can we allow Our Father Who Art in Heaven to get away with it? Puzzles me that we would hold a supreme being to a lesser standard than mortal man.
Nikki, I finally managed to connect to your livejournal. What a wild journey you had tracking down your father. Our stories are amazingly similar, only I know why my father never made contact with me. My mother finally told me that she made a deal with him that if he stayed away from us he'd never have to pay child-support. She said she didn't want his influence in our lives. He was apparently less than what I would consider a man when it came to taking care of his family and responsibilities. I am so much the opposite of this that I have to agree that my mother did the right thing. I remember meeting him once when I was twelve and my mother was suing him for child support and being amazed at how much he looked like my sister. He asked me then if I wanted to get to know him and his new family (my half-sisters and brothers) I declined. I guess it was after this that my mother made that deal with him. At one point in my life he lived right around the corner from me but I could not remember what he looked like from that one brief meeting. This ws during a particularly violent period in my life and it used to bother me that I could bump into him on the street and kick his ass and never know it was my own father. I never really think about him anymore. I probably haven't thought much about him since I was fourteen or fifteen and he lived so close to me. After reading your story I know I will never be tempted to look him up.
I remember at a very low point in my life, I needed God to show up and make himself known and felt. I was going to chuck my faith if he did not manifest himself in some sort of tangible way. Well, God made it abundantly clear that he was near. No, he did not "show his face", nor did he speak audibly to me, but I felt a strange sense of deep peace that I just cannot describe. All I know is, I believe because I have ample personal evidence that he in fact does exist and cares.
Plus, I don't feel it is my place to judge God. I think that he is a lot smarter and wiser than me and he has his reasons for why he does things which may not be completely apparent to us now, but perhaps will be reveal to us later on. I basically think that God has calculus that none of us can understand. Further, he dwarfs the universe, so there must be aspects to him that are unattainable
That was just lovely. I wish my father would have felt that way. My parents divorced when I was about 3 years old. I got one phone call when I was in my 20's, about 5 letters and read about him in the newspapers back in the early 80's. My Mom must have made some kind of child support/visitation agreement with him. I don't know. Anytime I asked about my father all she did was get mad and wouldn't talk to me. Now my Mom is dying and I have left meeting him alone for all these years, until she is gone. I hope he is still alive so I can at least meet him and ask him why he never wanted to see me. Growing up without a father, or even a step-father wasn't the best. But then how can I compare it to having a father? Not knowing what I missed. I don't know, I'm 47 and have 4 kids, been divorced twice and the 3 youngest live with me. It's hard being a single Mother raising sons.
I can only dream of what your daugher will have growing up with a loving father. It was so nice to read that there are men who want to be a father and not just father and let the mother take responsiblity. Oh, good luck during the teens, my daughter did fine until then (she's almost 16) she just went wild. I think trying to find her identity and realizing she wasn't a child anymore. A very trying time. The thing about parenting is that it is OTJT, "On the Job Training", a learn as you go process. I have read and tried all different techniques and well, they don't work. The key I found is earning their respect. I don't hit my kid's. When they do something wrong or there's a problem. We talk. It gives them the sense of security and trust. I do ground them and give time-outs and they work.
It will be interesting when you write about having a 16 year old daughter :)celestite
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