The most significant letter I’ve ever received was an email from my dad. It was on Father’s Day about ten years ago and I’ve read it about fifty times since. It’s too sacred to share on a blog, but I can sum it up for you pretty easily.
My dad grew up pretty rough. His alcoholic father left at an early age and his mom was married a few more times after that. There didn’t seem to be much consistency or predictability (at least on an emotional level) in his family and the stories from his youth that I’ve heard revolve primarily around his friends from school (some that are still in his life) and not the usual family fare. To say it wasn’t ideal is a great understatement. He rarely heard I love you growing up (save for the occasional visiting aunt or uncle) and never had a dad in his life to speak of.
My friend Don Miller wrote a book called To Own a Dragon. It’s a great book, especially for guys who grew up without a dad and he makes a great distinction between a father and a dad. This made sense to me because I’ve never been able to refer to my dad as my Father. It seems so formal and detached. Fathers are sperm donors. Dads are heart donors. I guess that’s why I have a hard time calling God my Father. He’s more of a dad to me. Abba Father. They say that your relationship with your earthly father will form much of your view of God. Mine has. Thankfully. If Yahweh is anything like Tommie Williams, we’re all in for a treat. This is what I received from my earthly dad (and I know exists in our heavenly one): kindness, selflessness, sensitivity, concern, graciousness, a servant’s heart and the loudest cheerleading voice on the sidelines at every game. He literally lost his voice at most every game my sister and I played. His knees wouldn’t allow him to run with me, but I learned to run apart from him, and independence is an entirely other gift.
I asked him one time how he knew how to be a dad since he never really had one. He simply and poignantly said, “Well, I knew what I didn’t want to be.”
At first it struck me odd to be getting a note from my dad on Father’s Day that Sunday ten years ago—shouldn’t I be the one handing out the encouraging words? But what I received was my dad’s heart in 100 words or less. Something every boy needs. And even though I’m turning 40 this month, I’m still Tommie’s boy and beyond proud of it.
Happy Father’s Day Dad. I love you more than you know.
(rw)
