I was well into my 30s when I learned to love my dad for who he is; not for who I thought he should be. He’s always been a good man – a hard worker, volunteer, churchgoer, encourager. But growing up, I thought I needed more from him – more hugs, more tenderness, more lets-sit-down-and-talk-about-our-feelings. I was angry, compared him to others, blamed some of my life choices on my perception that he wasn’t “there” enough.
But the truth is, God knew long before we showed up on this earth that we’d be family. He knew that my dad’s strengths and struggles would come together with my own to create a relationship, and it would be a journey, and if we allowed it (which we have!) He would use those things to grow us more and more into the people He created us to be.
Through the years, I’ve come to realize that my Dad did the best he could with what he had at the time as a father . . .