Passion



Passion is a gritty kind of love, tough and

optimistic enthusiasm that overcomes negativity and inconvenience to make it

through to the end. (10,000 Reasons Overflow)


Friday, February 07, 2014

My dad



I’m going to tell you the truth, I am going to be sorry I wrote this post.  And here’s why? I’m sick and I am already boogery and coughing and this is going to make it worse.  But sometimes we need to suffer for truth.  I believe that there is a reason this lesson came today.  I don’t know what that reason is… but there is one.

I read this article today and I’d say that if you have ever had issues with your parents, you should read it too.

About a year ago, I really started dealing with a lot of my junk.  I knew that I believed lies but I was so caught up in them that I couldn’t see the truth.  I was like a mosquito caught up in a black widow spider’s web.


One lie I was caught in was that my dad didn’t care about me, that he really didn’t love me, and he wished at some point that I would have died instead of my sister.  Ok.  There I said it.  And it’s so stupid that it makes me cry just to think that I could ever have believed that.  Because, you see, that was a lie from the pit of hell.  

And awhile ago, I am not sure at one point it was in my healing, I wrote a thank you letter for all the things my dad did for me and I read it to him.  I cried through THE WHOLE THING!!!  Poor guy, he’s seen me cry about 6,453,278 times.  What can I say I am a crier.

Today, I was writing to a friend about a decision she had to make about her daughter, and I thought about something happened when I was 14 (and for all you peeps who think I’m so churched and never do anything wrong… this is just icing on the poop cake of my life).  When I was 14 (9th grade) 4 or 5 of my friends decided we’d go to a senior’s hall party.  I don’t even remember how we got there.  But my dad knew we were going (what a dummy, I told him the truth LOL).  We got there, and just before we got there, the police arrived and shut it down.  Now let me also interject here that we were at Martin and Michigan which… was not the best of all neighborhoods, even back then, certainly 4 or 5 14 year old girls didn’t need to be there.  Everyone was FREAKING out, what are we going to do???  Me… “I’ll just call my dad, he will come get us”.  Please note…  for some reason mom’s seemed nicer and cooler back then, but all my friends who had moms were scared out of their minds to call. I called my dad from a pay phone (no cell phones back then) and my dad came and got us.  Not mad, but we all had to pile (literally) in the back of his Chevrolet Celebrity).  He made my friends call their moms just to tell them they were at our house, and everyone spent the night.  He even cooked us breakfast in the morning.  (for the record, he just thought we were going to a party and I didn't tell him where, just that we were going to a party)

Or how about the time when my friend picked me up (I had a terrible migraine but went anyway) and she said we were going to hang out with a guy that was her friend… and then later… after driving around for an hour or two she wanted to get weed (I did not smoke it but she did – seriously I always thought that stuff was STUPID) but she couldn’t find anyone… I wanted to go home.  She wouldn’t take me home.  So…  me being the brain child I was and apparently not scared of anything got out of the car when she stopped at a red light.  Who did I call?  My dad.  Thankfully he also taught me a good sense of direction so I knew EXACLTY where I was.  I even called collect. LOL.  Who came and got me?  My dad.

My dad taught me enough about right and wrong to let me make choices (note I didn’t always make the right ones!) but to always be a safe place I could call if I ran into trouble, and sometimes I ran straight for it!  I know that my dad is gray and balding because of me.  Poor guy.

But let me also tell you this story.  My dad was not only ALWAYS there to bail me out of whatever mess I made (and not without consequences) but he was there to watch me succeed.

When I was nine years old, I wanted to be able to be able to drive the aluminum boat and inflatable raft out on my own.  And technically, you need a boater’s license to do that.  My dad even taught the classes.  So I took the class.  Every Thursday night for 4 weeks, we’d head over to Lapham Community Center in Allen Park to take the class.  I took the class, did the homework, and took the test.  And my dad never helped me.  And to be honest until today, I really didn’t believe that my dad cared whether I passed or failed because he never helped me.  

I passed.  One more wrong… and I would have failed (my dad did NOT grade my test, he wanted it to be fair).  My dad always bragged about how I passed it all by myself and in my head there was a lie that said “of course I did, because YOU never helped me!!!” but the truth is that he didn’t help me because he wanted me to be successful and believe in myself.   (and for the record, I think parents lack that these days, we are so worried that our kids won’t be able to handle failure we make it impossible for them not to succeed, but they never learn from their mistakes and sometimes that’s an important lesson).

I have had so many struggles because I didn’t have a mom.  Let’s face it, dads don’t love like moms.  Because well, they aren’t moms.  Duh.

I’m so thankful for my dad.  He was a great dad.  I feel sorry for you, because he’s mine all mine!
And P.S.  he’s the best grandpa too!!!

1 comment:

Pat said...

I love you...