When I was 15 years old, I distinctly remember turning to my friend Richard and telling him “In a year, I’m going to get a job and file for emancipation. I just need to get out.” I was so mad, bitter, and disappointed that my life had not measured up to the expectation that media set for me. I would come home from school and just hope that my dad wouldn’t ask me how was day was at school because Ugh, did he even really care?
Flash forward 5 years and my dad is one of my favorite people in this world. I greatly look forward to weekends where the family gets to go camping and spend time together, even if it means zero personal space and I don’t get to sleep in at all. That’s okay.
It did not happen overnight. I will admit, I was not an easy teen to have. I was salty towards my dad for a long time, and it hardened us both and our attitudes towards each other were not good ones. I’m not sure when the exact moment was that I realized that I so needed my dad, but I have a few theories. As a teenager, I was determined to prove my dad wrong, that he was wrong about my “stoner” friends (Which he was not), that he was wrong about the girls I so badly wanted to be like (Again, he was right) and most of all I just wanted to be right so that I could smite his all-knowing wisdom. I wanted to be right, and I wanted him to be wrong. I’m not sure why this desire was so strong, I think partially because he had great advice to give me but didn’t really know how to do it, and I rejected his poor communication skills.
A year and a half ago; the day I was let go from a job that I loved because of a poor decision I had made months prior, I sat in my room crying, and he had come into my bedroom to say something. I remember asking him not to say anything, because I knew I had screwed up, and I didn’t need anything else to be said. He didn’t even need to say anything, though I’m sure he did, because it was in his eyes. It was anger, yes, because I’d been stupid, but beyond that anger was this longing to understand why. Why would his daughter let herself be subjected to this generation’s glorification of being absolutely idiotic? (I could go on a super long tangent on how media is poisoning our children’s mind and that we need to stop and think about what TV, Music and entertainment is selling out kids). The pain in his eyes was much deeper than just that of a father who’s kid made a silly mistake. This was deep hurt, betrayal and he didn’t understand why. And I saw that in his eyes, and that hurt more than anything else.
I think that I subconsciously decided that day that I never wanted to see my dad look like that ever again, and that began the long and very hard task of fixing the bridges that I had burned. It also began the process of healing, regaining my parent’s trust, and the people around me. That was hard.
Now, quite some time later, I have a relationship with my dad that is unlike anything I have ever had before, and I love it. We had fun, we can pick on each other and not immediately get defensive. Just last night, we sat together watching the Littles swim in the pool and talked politics and about life and all sorts of things. We have fun and that is totally by the grace of God. It did not happen overnight, it took him having to bend and try to understand what I was dealing with, and it took me humbling myself before everyone I had disappointed. It took me letting down all the walls I built up, and just talking. It took us both a lot of effort, and it was not something either of us could have done alone. I will always need to work on my attitude, because I can be pretty salty sometimes, but God has brought me very far, especially with my relationship with my dad. God is good, and when we humble ourselves before Him after messing up, He promises to heal. He will never leave us or forsake us, and I am so grateful for my heavenly father, and for the guy here on earth that I get to call Dad; one of my greatest friends.
That being said, Hey Dad! How about that kitten?
Flash forward 5 years and my dad is one of my favorite people in this world. I greatly look forward to weekends where the family gets to go camping and spend time together, even if it means zero personal space and I don’t get to sleep in at all. That’s okay.
It did not happen overnight. I will admit, I was not an easy teen to have. I was salty towards my dad for a long time, and it hardened us both and our attitudes towards each other were not good ones. I’m not sure when the exact moment was that I realized that I so needed my dad, but I have a few theories. As a teenager, I was determined to prove my dad wrong, that he was wrong about my “stoner” friends (Which he was not), that he was wrong about the girls I so badly wanted to be like (Again, he was right) and most of all I just wanted to be right so that I could smite his all-knowing wisdom. I wanted to be right, and I wanted him to be wrong. I’m not sure why this desire was so strong, I think partially because he had great advice to give me but didn’t really know how to do it, and I rejected his poor communication skills.
A year and a half ago; the day I was let go from a job that I loved because of a poor decision I had made months prior, I sat in my room crying, and he had come into my bedroom to say something. I remember asking him not to say anything, because I knew I had screwed up, and I didn’t need anything else to be said. He didn’t even need to say anything, though I’m sure he did, because it was in his eyes. It was anger, yes, because I’d been stupid, but beyond that anger was this longing to understand why. Why would his daughter let herself be subjected to this generation’s glorification of being absolutely idiotic? (I could go on a super long tangent on how media is poisoning our children’s mind and that we need to stop and think about what TV, Music and entertainment is selling out kids). The pain in his eyes was much deeper than just that of a father who’s kid made a silly mistake. This was deep hurt, betrayal and he didn’t understand why. And I saw that in his eyes, and that hurt more than anything else.
I think that I subconsciously decided that day that I never wanted to see my dad look like that ever again, and that began the long and very hard task of fixing the bridges that I had burned. It also began the process of healing, regaining my parent’s trust, and the people around me. That was hard.
Now, quite some time later, I have a relationship with my dad that is unlike anything I have ever had before, and I love it. We had fun, we can pick on each other and not immediately get defensive. Just last night, we sat together watching the Littles swim in the pool and talked politics and about life and all sorts of things. We have fun and that is totally by the grace of God. It did not happen overnight, it took him having to bend and try to understand what I was dealing with, and it took me humbling myself before everyone I had disappointed. It took me letting down all the walls I built up, and just talking. It took us both a lot of effort, and it was not something either of us could have done alone. I will always need to work on my attitude, because I can be pretty salty sometimes, but God has brought me very far, especially with my relationship with my dad. God is good, and when we humble ourselves before Him after messing up, He promises to heal. He will never leave us or forsake us, and I am so grateful for my heavenly father, and for the guy here on earth that I get to call Dad; one of my greatest friends.
That being said, Hey Dad! How about that kitten?