Fatherhood

 

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I’m not sure I’ll ever get use to the “bittersweet nature” of life.

Maybe there’s a part of my brain cemented against complexity; nestled too comfortably in dualism. Things are either good. Or bad. A person is right. Or wrong. This coffee is good. All other food sources unnecessary.

Black. White.

It’s just easier.

We know judgement is a great protective barrier against feeling.

And that is especially appealing after being deeply wounded.

I also hate feeling vulnerable. People who know me know I am telling the truth. I can hold another person’s emotions so much easier. But I struggle with my own and would rather camp out, for eternity, in my little cranium.

But Motherhood cracked open something so far down inside my Soul–it still leaves me reeling in it’s wake.

That “something” looks a lot like the skin of a new born: soft beyond measure and fragile like the wings of a butterfly.

And it is most certainly not housed in the left brain.

Then comes Father’s Day. And being super-mature about it.

Because finding the right words about all that to the questions of an inquisitive child is like counting sand.

Virtually impossible.

I imagine lots of mother’s have found creative ways to deal with an absence of ‘other.’

I know I have.

But it’s still damn hard to write about.

Motherhood holds a fierce protective quality I never understood until Sedona-Grace was born. I could love children. But she birthed something in me. Sometimes I feel I could conquer the Roman army. Delusional yes. But I still probably would have gone for it if required. That’s just what Mother’s do.

But I’m not actually that powerful. Not even close. I knew I, and my child, needed the other part for wholeness and without a good man as part of our lives – I would always need to hold that balance of loss with respect.

And I would have to stay honest- keeping away from the edge of some dark abyss selling some big fat lie: “We don’t need anyone. We have each other.”

Because I know different. Not only do I know my own weakness and limitations as a human being…I know my father.

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Growing up he modeled old school values diminishing in our culture like the Amazon forest. And as I see him aging a part of me  panics over mortality’s grip. Because he never changed. He has stayed the same. Through every kind of insane life circumstance – he remains.

And so the little girl, in me, wants his Grace, Kindness, Compassion, Forgiveness, Faith, Perseverance, Discernment, Hope and Willingness to look at the Big Picture to live forever.

Because the world needs a light like him.

I need him.

He makes the reality of living with other broken people easier to bear.

He helps push back a belief that trusting in another human being with your heart, or the heart of your child, isn’t the stupidest thing on the planet after being hurt so many times in the past.

He makes the risk of Love do-able. Worthy. And his evidence of Love for me, throughout a lifetime of risks, mistakes, failures and re-do’s protects something deep inside: belief of my own worth and value.

More than once my Father has pulled me out of dualism. Be it fear or faithlessness. I simply wouldn’t be the woman or mother I am today without his influence.

And I ache living so far away from him.

I also know there are many other men who love their children deeply–moving heaven and earth for their safety and well-being; dedicating their lives to family just as my own father has.

Hear the gratitude and please don’t ever stop shining the Light of your Love into our world.

Your Love is ultimately a Leadership needed.

22549868_1481280078649124_5553551324318899401_nThank you.

Thank you.

Thank you.