Happy Father’s Day to the men in my life who have exemplified faithful character.
The wind streaming from the lowered window was hot and dry as it hit my forearm, but it was satisfying. We were sunburned, exhausted, and unappealingly aromatic from a 3-day canoe trip down the John Day river, making an open window necessary as we swiftly made our 4 and a half hour drive home. Someone cranked up the radio – It seemed that this was the song of the summer and the tight-knit members of our youth group embraced it. It was mid-August 1993 and these Scottish singers with their catchy tune had captured our hearts. Dah-dah-da … we hummed in our canoes … we hummed it everywhere … our exhausted bodies even willed the loudest rendition on repeat all the way home. And I dreamt, I dreamt of someone actually loving me that much someday. I know my mom has it. I knew both my grandmas had it. And I was certain that someday I would have that too.
Fast forward, ahem, nearly 30 years and my #much-cooler-than-I-ever-was, and #has-better-taste-in-music-than-I-ever-did 16-yr-old daughter asked me what my favorite group or song was when I was in high school. It was this one. We pulled it up on her phone, rocked out, and created one of those treasured, forever-memories from taking a little time to be silly together. Later, I had a private moment. I burst into tears. I realized how much that song meant to the little girl inside me. The pain from my divorce was fresh again; the wounds that I thought were healed were torn open reminding me that healing is a life-long journey and that there will always be moments like these. These moments lead to continued growth or retraction and a choice has to be made. I choose to continue working towards healing by facing the memories head-on and looking for the lessons that can be found and shared in them. Memories are funny things; they can simultaneously hold joy and pain. So while there’s pain in the realization that I’ve never experienced the hopes and dreams of that little girl, there’s hope and joy in the fact that good men exist and I choose to celebrate them.
I think of the boys that were in that youth group van in 1993; I choose to celebrate their godly character, the choices they’ve made to be husbands to their wives, fathers to their children, and the priority they’ve placed on their relationship with God.
I think of my father and my grandfathers who consistently made the choice to do the right thing when doing the right thing wasn’t easy, because who ever said that marriage, kids, or life in general would be easy?
I don’t know if these Scottish guys followed through on their 1000 mile promise, but I know guys who did so I tell my kids about them as much as I am reminded. They need to know that such men exist and that a real man is capable of a thousand miles and more.
I don’t know if these Scottish guys followed through on their 1000 mile promise, but I know … such men exist and a real man is capable of a thousand miles and more.
Parenting Solo 