Father's House News

Catriona Reid - the FHT reader and researcher writes on the 'Special-ness' of dads from her point of view.

Twenty minutes ago I was standing in a large department store and among the chaos there was a little girl with big blonde hair and a pink dress running around a pillar. She was giggling and I could see the happiness that was radiating out of her. Behind her, her dad was chasing her pretending to be a monster. As he caught her and swooped her into his arms in a big hug and then let her go- she laughed and said ‘AGAIN!’ At that moment God told me to write about how special dads are- and I have no idea what’s about to pour out, only that I need to write this:

Last week I asked a group of 11-13 year old girls the last time they felt proper joy. The type of joy that fills you up and spills out of you, a joy filled moment that you remember for a really long time. Now on asking this group of girls you would have thought they would talk about a party or a new boyfriend, but no. It was a bus trip, a three minute conversation, a cup of coffee. One by one, unprompted, the girls started talking about a time in the past that they spent with their dads.

I recently read of an interview in which the well acclaimed novelist Toni Morrison was asked about the structure and classes and books that had achieved her greatness as a writer. She laughed and replied 'Oh, no, that is not why I am a great writer. I am a great writer because when I was a little girl and walked into the room where my father was sitting, his eyes would light up. That is why I am a great writer. That is why. There is no other reason.'

My dad isn’t great at telling me he loves me all the time in words, but he is superb at going above and beyond. I remember during my second year of university, ringing him and asking if there was any old spare printers in his office that weren't being used, as I needed one for my university projects. If there was, that would have been great, and I would have quite happily waited until I next saw my parents to have an old printer. There weren't any spare and that simply meant I would just carry on using the ones on campus. No problem. That night, at 6pm- after working from 6am, my dad started the 5 hour round trip to my house, passing a computer store which had the best printer/copier/faxer machine en route.

One of my favourite days is when my dad and I went to London together. He called it a ‘daddy/daughter’ day out, which sounds incredibly cheesy, but that day reminds me all the time of how much he loves me. We went to see a Shakespeare play and went to a poetry exhibition and on the train, we played practical jokes on the other passengers, pretending there was a lizard on the train.

As I was growing up, my dad used to leave me books on my bed that he thought I might like. I’d be ready to climb into bed, and on top of the covers was his next suggestion. He never said anything, but I knew they were from him. Today my room at my parents house has floor to ceiling bookshelves (built by my dad), extra bookshelves, book cabinets and piles of books. I even studied literature at university, not because it would make my dad proud, but because he encouraged me in something I loved. He stood by my side in his own way.

So when he was diagnosed with cancer two months ago, I was wrecked. I had half an hour to address this with God before my parents turned up on my doorstep and I had to face my daddy, who up until this point had been invincible.

I am incredibly blessed to have grown up with an amazing and affirming father. I realise not many people have that privilege, especially the youth that I teach now, who are largely growing up with absent fathers. The thing is, my earthly dad does have limits. He does not have the funding enough to provide everything I need, every time I need something. I know he would give it to me if he had it, but the truth is, there are limits on his funds, and on his time and on his humanness. My dad can’t be with me every second of every day to tell me that I am beautiful, that he loves me, that I am doing ok. My dad can’t show me the people that I need to be speaking to about love, or be a constant part of my daily life. My dad is fallible, he can’t be here forever. That’s ok. I don’t expect anything more from him. He has done the best fathering he could ever have done, and I love and respect him for that.

When I was nineteen, I was not perfect and shiny. I was not the type of daughter every dad hopes for. I caused trouble, made many many mistakes and did plenty of stupid things. I was at a stage in my life where I was either going to have to change everything about my life, or cause myself incredible damage. I was unaware of this at the time. I thought I was having the best time of my life, even if I was messed up inside, externally my 'party animal' rebellious self was popular and had plenty to occupy herself with.

On the 21st October 2006, My Dad in heaven didn’t look for the shiny perfect girl to tell her how she was his daughter. He chose me. Out of a line up of potential daughters, I am not the one anyone would have chosen. But a perfect and abundant father looked down and told me that he was calling me to be his forever. It’s a long story how I reached the place where I could hear that, and I know that my Daddy God has been calling my name since I was born, it was just that night that something broke through my heart and I finally got to see him, with wide, tearful eyes and a heart full of wonder.

I’ve grown up with an amazing dad, but even with a great dad, I have made mistakes and gone the wrong way. My dad in heaven outlines the path for me. He is not interested in everything that I have done wrong, he just says that he loves me and that I should follow him. It’s that simple. All you have to do is to say yes to God loving you, and it just happens.

My Dad in heaven cannot get sick. He has storehouses which are so deep that they never end. He is with me always to pour out his love on me and because he is infinte, he has time for me and me only. Everything he does is to teach me, to love me and to guide me. My Dad in heaven blessed me with my dad on earth.

Sometimes it’s hard for me to read about re-writing God in the face of bad fathers because I know how my earthly dad loves me and I don’t quite get it. I think I have just come to realise that every person needs a dad. From working with youth, and people on the fringes of society I realise how easy it is to try and find this acceptance elsewhere. I have hung out with gangs before, the thing which ties them together is love. Violence comes out of a desperation to belong, to prove to the others, to survive. It is the wrong actions that are carried out, but the motivation tends to be to belong, to be accepted, to be loved.

Maybe you haven’t had a dad. Maybe he hasn’t been what you’ve needed. Maybe you’ve had a great dad- but he has limitations at just being human.

The thing is, the best Dad ever is waiting to take your hand and pour out his everlasting love on you. I have been loved by an earthly dad, but the love my heavenly dad has to give out is so much more than any love you can receive on earth. You might think you have felt the best love the world has to offer, but until you ask God to love you, you haven’t felt anything at all in comparison. God’s love is so beautiful that it has the power to change our lives forever. It had the power to pull me out of darkness and change me into a person whose whole purpose is to love and be loved. When that becomes all that your heart wants, and it comes without striving, which is what god’s love is, it’s phenomenal. Daddy in fact, simply IS love.

I have a Dad who has loved me from when the world was created. He named me and knew who I was going to be even then. He knew that he would love me for nineteen years without being recognised or loved back. He knew that he would save my life countless times and keep me safe when I didn’t know that he was doing it. He knew that I would re-nounce him and that for nineteen years he would be loving me completely with only a one sided relationship. I don’t know anyone else that would be able to do that. Nineteen years of being with me and loving me every day without even a thank you. Even now that I know him, there are days that he is abundantly pours out his love on me and I ignore him, or I’m too busy to acknowledge him.

How is it possible that such a majestic and all powerful God who is capable of creating the whole world, who is so holy that he stands in unapproachable light, who has never made a mistake, chooses to not call us just servants, but gives us the title of sons and daughters, inviting us to call him father? Who loves us like a true father loves us, nurturing us and continually teaching us. Who even though not all of his creation loves him, he loves them back relentlessly, not having favourites. How is someone so holy so quick to love the broken and hopeless messes we sometimes are?
How does he look into the face of something which must hurt him so much and love us anyway? There are things I’ve done that I would not tell my earthly dad that I’ve done. This isn’t because I don’t trust him but because he would be hurt by those things. My heavenly Dad has seen every second of my brokenness and chooses to ignore the pain and love me abundantly and without limit. He keeps no record of everything that I’ve done wrong, but when I said ‘I love you’ he wiped the slate clean.

I didn’t know any theology at that moment of asking him to love me. I just knew that he did. I didn’t have any clever answers or smart repertoire, or anything to compare between different denominations. I didn’t have a clue about church politics or how church should be. I didn’t know anything about destiny or calling, or about how different people teach different things. I just knew I was loved, and that it was that simple.

My Heavenly Dad delights in me, and rejoices over me. He never leaves my side. He teaches me how to love and how to be loved. He teaches me that all these rules and legislations we put on ourselves are rubbish, and that obedience to his word should come from a heart that is just wanting to love. He is absolute beauty, and I love him more and more for loving that which is not beautiful and for re-naming it beautiful. I love that he is a father of restoration and reconciliation, no matter how much as a world we resist him and deny him.

That is one pretty amazing Dad. I am the little girl that is running around and around the pillar, giggling and yelling ‘Again’ and God will carry on chasing me and loving me again and again and again. There isn’t a moment when he will get bored of this game, nor he will tire. He is everlasting, and he is my dad. My dad. My dad.