Monday, June 20, 2016

The Love of the Father

Yesterday was Father's Day....and I couldn't help thinking of those without fathers....

According to the National Fatherhood Initiative, 24 million children in America -- one out of three -- live in biological father-absent homes. These statistics are taken from the U.S. Census Bureau.

It's been no secret to anyone who knows my husband, that he's been on the search for his bio-dad all his adult life. For him, it's been a haunting question without an answer. He's been blessed with many solid "fathers"--probably more than the average man has been. The image of all of them flash in my mind, Cal, Ron, Henry, Lee, Coach Dan Robinson, Wendell, Vernon, Aden, and Gil…to name a few. Because of the Father, and these men, my husband hasn't become a statistic on the long list of things that befall the fatherless. But that doesn't stop the haunting question….who is he?

We've done family research, he's done generational interviewing, and even genetic testing. All possible roads and bridges have been crossed to no avail. All options exhausted. Now it's in the Father's hands. He will write the next chapters--perhaps not until my hubby reaches heavens doors will he know that truth.

Saturday night, he drifted to sleep on the floor while tending the fire in the stove, only to waken cold and chilled. He stirred the ashes, and put on some kindling and stacked it full, drifting off once again--only to waken sweating before a roaring fire. By then it was after three in the morning, so he crawled to the couch until I woke him at eight.

He grinned through a sleepy haze, "I had a dream--I met my father."

He dreamed a dream. Had a vision, I think. They met. He saw his face, had a conversation, got to say all the things that mattered. It was calm, no angry words. He'd not known of Ted's existence, he said.

He'd be back, he said.

Such a lovely gift.

Ted called his friend on the way to church to have the "what's your lesson on today?" conversation. Brothers in Christ, talking about their Father. They do that almost weekly. Duane told him the lesson was about Gabriel coming to Mary to announce Christ's coming birth.

Their question: 
Would you be a scoffer if someone told you they'd been visited by an angel? Had a dream or a vision? A promise?

Would you be a scoffer if the Father sent his son, and that Son lived and died for us--then promised--he'd be back?

Such a lovely gift. A Father. A Root. A Promise.

He'll be back.

Posted with permission and blessing from Ted.

(It's a busy week before my son's wedding, so this is a re-post)
Blog post by Anne Love-
Writer of Historical Romance inspired by her family roots. 
Nurse Practitioner by day. 
Wife, mother, writer by night. 
Coffee drinker--any time.
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1 comment:

  1. After losing his 2 month old grandson, my husband was at a loss. He wanted to believe. He lay down on our couch and started praying. He told me his eyes were shut and the room became illuminated by a great light but he was afraid to open his eyes. That's when he knew God was calling him to be one of his own. He never told anyone but me. Said he was afraid they would think he was crazy. I think I'm even a little jealous of his experience.


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