I was born a mama’s girl. My mom and I had always been close (for the most part). My Dad is another story. I always tried to establish that same connection with my dad. Don’t get me wrong. He loves me and we have a great relationship, but I was always reaching for the same kind of bond that I had with my mom.
My dad taught me all kinds of things. When I was 8 years old, I asked him to show me how to play basketball, which is his favorite sport. He gladly took me to the basketball court several days a week after his morning jog. It didn’t take me long to learn the mechanics of shooting the ball, and dribbling took some work, but I got there too. He was so pleased with me, and I relished his praise.
I have mentioned before that my parents were missionaries. For a couple of years we lived on the little island of Dominica. My father was a church planter... starting new churches was his specialty. There was a little village a couple of hours away from our home called Boetica. My mom, sister and I didn’t like making the trip there each week. It was hot, humid and a long ride. My dad was soon making the trips by himself. Over time, I started feeling bad about him going alone, so I volunteered to go with him sometimes. He was thrilled and I was getting my dad all to myself for a few hours. I didn’t like the trip, but I liked the company.
One Sunday, my dad and I were invited to lunch after church by a church member and his family. My dad gladly accepted. My father, knowing what a picky eater I am, quietly told me that we would be guests in their home and refusing their food would be insulting and in poor taste (no pun intended). He told me to eat what was put in front of me without complaint. I said, “Okay” and braced myself for something like fish heads or something equally scary.
When we sat down for the meal, I thought I was ready for anything. But what appeared on the table was beyond my imagination. There were tiny little fish, just a little bit bigger than a grain of rice, called titiwi... which means “tiny fish”. There were thousands of them... I could see their little tiny eyes, which looked like specks of black pepper...they looked like maggots with eyes. I took one look, turned to my father and said as quietly and firmly as I could, “DADDY! I AM NOT GOING TO EAT THAT!”
My dad loves telling that story now. He thinks it’s hilarious. My memory of it isn’t laced with laughter however. I remember the look on his face...My dad gave me a look that I will never forget. It was a combination of embarrassment and anger. On the way home he chastised me for insulting our hosts, being a snob and an “ugly American”. I never went on another one of those trips with him again. He doesn’t remember that part. I was heartbroken that I had disappointed him and I figured the best way to keep that from happening again was to keep my distance. But it didn’t stop my craving to be close to him.
I found myself hanging on my father’s every word, especially when he was talking directly to me. I harvested his wisdom every chance I got. I talk about my dad a lot when I am discussing my recovery, because those words that meant so much back then, have given me a new understanding of things now. This has led me to a realization... I had exactly the right relationship with my dad. It was how it was supposed to be. You see, if I’d had the tighter bond with him, like the one I had with my mother, I wouldn’t have hung on his every word. I wouldn’t have absorbed the wisdom and reason he bestowed on me. It would have just been words. On a few occasions my dad’s words have saved my life, some friendships and my sanity. My relationship with him is solid now. I take great pleasure in telling him how things he said to me in my youth, have shaped my present life. When I share my story of recovery, I mention him a lot, and always in a good way. My dad is the wisest man that I know. He taught me common sense, reason and to not be afraid to go for things that can make my life better. He is forever a peacemaker and jokester... but more than anything else, he is a great father.
His father was absent from his life, so the only father he knew was God. I used to get so annoyed when he disciplined me by preaching to me. Now I know that he was leaning on the words of the only Father he knew. He didn’t have to be there for us. He could have walked out at any time. I can honestly say that even though he made mistakes with me, at no point did he set out to deliberately hurt me. Everything he did, right or wrong, was done with love and good intentions.
He went above and beyond when it came to “dad duty”. He would babysit my dolls for me so I could go out and play. Sometimes I would come home to find them all lined up on the couch, watching tv or they would be tucked in for a nap. He taught me to ride my bike, how to play tennis, and spent countless hours at poolside throwing coins into the pool for me to dive for.
He taught me life lessons as well... when I went through my first breakup, I was crushed and cried for days. Finally, my dad sat me down and said, “Look, you lived happily without him before, and you can live happily without him now.” That little morsel cut my mourning period over lost relationships way down. He also taught me that you can’t hold everyone in a death grip and expect them to stay. He used our parakeet as an example. When we wanted to take him out of his cage, if we just grabbed him, he’d fight like crazy to be free. But, if we just stuck our finger out and let him step onto it, he would happily stay there for a long time. Dad also said that “there is a fine line between hugging someone and suffocating them.”
It took me a while to see how a lot of his words of wisdom applied to me in my life, but I am seeing it more and more as time goes by. My dad and I are pretty close now, and I still hang on to his words. Much more often than not, the man is giving us pearls. Everyone knows about the long term romance I had with suicide. It was my father’s words coming through that gave me a tiny bit of hope, and eventually led to my longevity in the recovery process. He simply said, what if you give up right before things get good? He’s right. Some people have their father's looks, or abilities. I got my father's longevity, humor, and hopefully his wisdom. He’s retired now, but he still casts the odd pearl when it is needed. And while he didn't always give me what I wanted, he definitely gave me what I needed.
The best thing he ever told me? "Never let anyone treat you like you are anything less than a child of God".
