The words below were originally written May 19, 2019.  

It’s been a week since Mother’s Day. Seven days to marinate in my thoughts on Mother’s Day and try to reconcile the ache in my heart.  I loved my mother.  I have fond memories of snuggling with her, receiving lots of hugs and kisses, and affirmations galore.  For a woman fighting cancer, the disease never stopped her from loving the people in her life.

After my Mom died, I remember the pain of Mother’s Day, among many other holidays.  But Mother’s Day was set apart.  I was marked as a girl who didn’t have a Mom anymore and Mother’s Day was a painful reminder of she who once loved me, and then she was gone.

As I’ve been pondering Mother’s Day and how it affects people in so many ways both good and bad, one thing has stood out in my head.  It was my Mother who encouraged me to have a relationship with my Father.  She never tried to hide my Dad’s alcoholism from me, in fact she was very real.  I remember vividly hearing her express how my Father was really a good man.  She explained that he had a disease called alcoholism and that was why he couldn’t be the Dad we had hoped for.  She encouraged me to get to know him some day.

Through the years as I tried to get to know my Dad, I discovered that his whole world revolved around him.  It was a stark contrast to my Mother who was always reaching into the lives of her loved ones and  leaving them better off for it.

My Dad could only focus on himself.  He wanted to talk about how great he was.  It was always about him.  I never remember him talking about my Mom or expressing sorrow over the fact that she had died and how I had been left alone in the world.  My Mother who I so adored was not on my Dad’s radar and that really hurt me.

My Mom was certain that she got cancer as a result of her divorce.  I was told she left my Dad in the dead of night for fear of her life.  I remember my Dad struggling with rage and anger. Alcohol only makes those emotions more intense.

My Mother whom I loved so much and who loved me, suffered before my very eyes.  I watched her cry at night as she struggled under the weight of being a single Mom, fighting cancer and having an ex-husband who was incapable of caring or expressing in any outward way whatsoever any kind of love or concern.  Mother suffered for years before she died and it left me marked for life.

I’ve been awestruck to see so many Fathers who share some of the same apathy that my Father had.  A Father who cannot love the Mother of his children is doing violence to the very children he claims to love.  To be a loving Father, you must love the child’s Mother.  If a man cannot love the Mother of his children, then there is something profoundly wrong.

It wasn’t until I became a mother myself that I finally called my Dad out.  When my oldest daughter was three and her brother had just been born, I called my Dad to express my profound disappointment.  For my entire life I had held the narrative that there was something wrong with me, and that was why my Dad was never there for me.

But when I became a Mom, I thought my kids were the best.  As holidays and birthdays rolled around, I couldn’t help but notice that my Dad did not celebrate my kids.  So I called him and told him the truth of what was on my heart.

“Dad, you were a terrible Father when I was growing up.  You were never there for me when I needed you.  I always thought it was because there was something wrong with me.  But now I am a Mom, and I can see clearly.  The problem is not me, the problem is you.  I have these two beautiful kids and just like you were not there for me, you are not there for them.”

It was a difficult conversation, but it needed to happen.  And I am glad it happened, because for the first time in my life, I saw my Father humble himself.  He didn’t use words to say he was sorry, and I wish he had because it would have helped.  He did however make a shift, it was a turning in the right direction.  He started to send cards to my kids for their birthdays and at Christmas.   My Father changed.  What I witnessed was repentance.

The self centered man who always tooted his own horn became quiet.  He slowly started to reach into mine and my kids lives and along with his changed behavior came ripples of healing.  My Father in his brokenness of the divorce found the Lord and little by little the healing started to come.

On Mother’s Day this year I felt the gentle nudging of the Holy Spirit, urging me to be sure to get to church. Our family was out of town and we didn’t get back until the day before Mother’s Day.  My husband made it clear that he would not be going to church or doing anything other than resting to prepare for the work week.  My mind started to flood with memories of my childhood where God said my Mom was good, but my Dad acted like my Mom was bad.

As I sat in church I was reminded of who I am.  I was reminded of the importance of blessing your children and how some people don’t.  I was reminded that in the beginning God made man and he made woman and he said she was VERY GOOD.

It’s so important to know what God has to say.  Because unfortunately, I still have toxic people in my life who use words to curse me and tell me I’m messed up.  People who spew their unhappiness onto whoever happens to be near.  Men who need God and don’t even know it.

On Mother’s Day, I took the usual forced Mother’s Day picture with my kids who were with me.  I basked in the love of God my Father who thought it was important for me to be reminded that my worth lies in the fact that I am his.