Bleached socks

Today I was reminded of a father's love.

I look to my dad every time I have a problem. The other day while doing laundry I realized my socks looked disgusting. So I decided to bleach them. One problem: I've never bleached anything. In my life. (Well besides my white Nikes... but you know a girl ain't tryin to scuff up her white shoes right?) So naturally, I called Dad. The next day, he texted to check up on how my socks turned out.

I read Jonathan and Melissa Helser's blog entitled "Your thoughts define me" and the story he told about his little girl completely touched my heart. They're in my follow list. Check it out. I was literally moved to tears. A pretty inconvenient situation to be in while sitting at a secretary desk at my job.

This blog made me examine my relationship with my Dad. Or as I prefer to call him, my "Padre."

First off, the man let's me call him Padre. I mean really? A lot of kids have nicknames for their dad. Unfortunately for mine, he didn't get this nickname until I was 16. So now he gets to have it forever. I'll never outgrow it :)

I met my Dad when I was 6 years old. That's when my mom finally introduced us to her boyfriend, Duke. Even after they'd married, I refused to call "Duke" my dad. It literally took years before he gained my trust. You see, I'd been hurt by men who pretended to be father figures in the past. They'd come into our life and then just disappear from it. So I began to immediately reject them before they could reject me. My dad though, he refused to reject me. I would hate him and he would just love me.

Not only did he love me when I turned from him, but he encouraged me in everything I wanted to do. And I wanted to do everything. He let me practice my violin for hours and to this day swears I didn't sound terrible. (I'm not buying it) He played catch with me for hours in the middle of our street when I was learning to play softball. He convinced me I could do anything I wanted, despite what others said. I had coaches who said I would never be good enough to start a game. My dad helped me prove them wrong. And yet, I would curse him and hate him when I got upset.

And yet, despite how much I could despise him sometimes, I still looked to him before anyone else for affirmation. My dad was the one with whom I wanted to share my accomplishments first. My dad was the one who would brag on me and my siblings anytime we did anything right. Even better than that, my dad has never talked bad about us to others. I would make a huge mistake and disappoint him so much, yet I never heard him talk bad about me or my siblings. While others would focus on my sister's weight, or my brother's drug use, my dad would tell them about my sister's willingness to do anything for anyone and my brother's hilarious sense of humor.

My dad amazes me. And he swears I amaze him. My dad encourages me. He says his kids are the encouragement for him. My dad affirms me. He gets embarrassed when we tell him how great he is.

Living 600 miles from home I sometimes feel forgotten. I have this need to be needed. Anytime I do something good, I immediately call Dad to tell him. I need to hear him say how good I've been. At 22, I still need my dad to tell me that I'm doing good and that he's proud. It's funny that I feel this way considering how I outright rejected him 14 years ago.

And yet, my Dad is 100% human. He makes huge mistakes. He disappoints me sometimes. He loses his temper.

As I sit here and think about it, I'm struck with a really awesome realization. I guess I never really thought about it, but I'm confident it was my earthly father's love that made accepting God's love easy.

My Dad never required me to change in order for him to accept me. God accepted me when I rejected him and avoided him for years. My dad was an example of God's love and was placed in my life so that when I finally accepted salvation, I would be able to trust God to love me unconditionally.

Similar to my relationship with Padre, I keep finding myself running to God for affirmation when I do something good. When I read a book that challenges me spiritually or spend time in the Word, I don't outright say it but I feel this unconscious "look" to God asking " Do you see how much I love you, God? Am I pretty Father? Did I do good, Abba? "

For too long, I’ve been trying to make everyone happy without being true to the desires God has placed in my heart. God deserves for me to be the girl he is making me into. He gave everything so that I may have eternal life. He sacrificed his only son. I can't even sacrifice my favorite stuffed animal, yet God gave me the life of his son so that some day I can walk the streets of heaven with him. He loved me that much. I want God to look at me and say that I'm beautiful. That I've done good. That he knows how much I love him. Because I KNOW he's looking at my heart.

As for the rest of the world, I'm done caring what you all think. Some may think I'm a "bible-thumper" while others will think I'm too liberal to be a good Christian. Well I could care less. I'm done hiding from my faith and the person that I'm meant to be. I've been blessed with an earthly father that supports me in everything I do and a Heavenly Father who is blessing everything I touch. And I will praise him, even when it forces me out of the places that are comfortable and into unknown territory.

I'm ready Lord. Send me.

Okay, maybe I’m not completely ready… but I’m working on it :)

Love you Abba. You too Padre.