fathers mystify me. they do.

i spent some time with mine today. its not always easy. we have our good days, and we have our not so good days.

ive learned a lot from him. i have. and as much as we have our issues, and as much as we’ll never have a real father/son relationship, i have learned things from him that i value.

ive learned the value of hard work. i cant really credit anyone else with showing me a hard work ethic. i cant say it was done perfectly, but hey… i work my tail off. and im thankful for that.

i also learned the value of a job well done. and of seeing the skill and passion that goes into things most other people either take for granted, or simply miss. ive helped to build houses, run plumbing, build window frames… and sweep the garage, a lot. and when i see something constructed well, even if its nothing more than a barn, i see the passion and sweat that went into it. and im thankful to see that.


i wont lie to you. my father and i never had a normal relationship. i can remember hating him when i was a child. i can remember seething when he’d embarrass me in front of my friends.

and somehow i remember that this was supposed to be ‘normal’. that growing up this way was what every other kid was doing. that we were all supposed to hate our fathers, and that embarrassment was normal.

that having a father who returned his Christmas presents because they were ‘too expensive” was what everyone else did in early January. that stories of abuse would surface many years later. that not wanting to grow up and be ‘just like dad’ was what every 12 year old did.

can you believe that i probably was in my mid-20s before i began to realize that maybe, just maybe, not everyone grew up like i did? that not everyone had a dad they couldnt stand? and to be honest, in my early 20s, i hated him. passionately. the only reason i talked with him during that time of my life was because i was afraid of what he’d do if i didnt. either to himself, or to my family. now? i still think that… though not as much.

so where am i going with all this? good question. i will be looking for an apartment sometime late this summer. my office is moving and my commute will probably not be tons of fun. and besides, its time. i need to. and i mentioned this to my dad. his response?

he wanted me to move in with him. into his 1 bedroom apartment. yes, ONE BEDROOM. you see, he’s getting involved in this insurance business. he’s going to need a computer. and he knows nothing about computers. so, for

“3-6 months, i can have you 2-3 nights a week for about an hour. that way, i wont have to call you with computer questions”.

oh… and of course, i can

“take the pressure of rent off of his shoulders”.


i think im still realizing that not everyones father is this way. that not everyone grew up like i did.

if you havent figured it out yet, im not your typical 27 year old. there are parts of me that i dont understand. parts of who a man is supposed to be that escape me.

id love to say that at 27, im ready for marriage. that i feel the foundation i have is strong enough to be a man who can hold a marriage up… who could, someday, have a family. i cant say that.

im still looking for purpose. for the foundation that i so want.

there were so many things i missed. so many instances, moments in time where manhood was supposed to be passed on to me, that never happened. so many ways that i feel like im faking it.

maybe thats it… im faking. because i dont know how to do this the way it was supposed to be done.


i may live the rest of my life with questions unanswered. i may never find the completion, the fullness, the firm foundation im looking for… i may never find the complete meaning to the questions i have…

i would never pray the childhood i had on anyone. but when i look at the damaged parts of my life, the parts that he was supposed to build up, invest in and grow… somehow, i find meaning.

in the pieces, in the pain, there is meaning. there is hope. and i pray that i can bring that hope to others who havent yet found it.

the broken clock is a comfort, it helps me sleep tonite
maybe it cant stop tomorrow, from stealing all my time
i am here still waiting, i still have my doubts
i am damaged at best, like you’ve already figured out

im falling apart, im barely breathing
with a broken heart, thats still bleeding
in the pain, there is healing
in your name, i find meaning
so im holding on, im holding on
im holding on, im barely holding on to you

the broken locks were a warning, you got inside my head
i tried my best to be guarded, im an open book instead
i still see your reflection, inside of my eyes
that are looking for purpose, they’re still looking for life

im falling apart, im barely breathing
with a broken heart, thats still bleeding
in the pain, is there healing
in your name, i find meaning
so im holding on, im holding on
im holding on, im barely holding on to you

im haning on, another day
just to see what you will throw my way
and im hangin on, to the words you say
you said that i
will be ok

the broken lights on the freeway, left me here alone
i may have lost my way now, havent forgotten my way home



there are so may ways that my relationship with God has been impacted by my relationship with my father. i cannot deny that, and in all honesty, thats what this entire post is dedicated to. thats what it all boils down to.

we all enter this life helpless, and in tremendous need. the lucky ones have those needs met; physically, emotionally, and spiritually. there are others though, who fend for themselves. who have to find the solutions to the problems they face. solutions that, so many others were given.

they carry the scars, the burdens of what was lost. and in so many ways, they still need rescue.

someOne once said that He’d restore the years that the ‘locust had eaten’. He promised to restore what was lost. and to be honest, i cant see how He can restore this. how he can look at a generation of people just like me, and stand by that promise.

but if He can… then i’ll let Him.