the idea of fatherhood mystifies me. i dont understand it. not in the way that, at 28, i’d want to.

it’s foreign. its weird. its something i never grew up with and am therefore lost on how to quantify it. ronald miller described it as owning a dragon, something he’d never had. something i dont think i had.

we were designed to walk this path with a father figure. with someone who had walked it before us. who could pass down their wisdom and the wisdom they received from their fathers, and the wisdom their fathers received from their fathers….

someone who knew the pitfalls and the potholes, where to see the beauty in the midst of the cracked concrete. where to find the music, the worship, in the midst of the asphalt and blacktop. someone who knows that in the pain of growing, there is life… and knows how to make that life shine.

we were never meant to walk this path alone. sometimes though, thats exactly how it feels.

a father is supposed to be there. to be the one we run to, when we skin our knee or have our heart broken. they’re supposed to offer guidance, wisdom and common sense.

a father is supposed to be there.

—

i feel broken. incomplete. like im missing some major key, some vital piece of this puzzle that is life. a piece that everyone else got. that im so far behind in the game, that even attempting to play would be a wasted endeavor.

if i was honest tonight, id say that i dont feel i fit. i dont have any close friends down here. none. and that, for the most part is my fault.

my life revolves around work. and i can pretend that im happy with that. i can hide the pain under the effort, the reports and pivot tables, the spreadsheets and conference calls. but its all ive got.

im alone, in the 5th largest metropolitan area in the us. and im looking for my own place. somehow, those to seem to be complete opposites.

—

somewhere inside of me, is a voice that whispers

surrender

it’s a voice that reminds me of a young man who was abandoned to the call. who worshiped like no one else was around. and who was close to the heartbeat of his Heavenly Father.

that seems so long ago. and so much has changed.

i grew up.

and part of me wants to pack my bags (so to speak) and just keep putting one foot in front of the other. turn my back on this Heavenly Father figure and just step out on my own.

because i blame Him. for this. for the pain. the hurt. for what my mom and sisters went through. and for what their going through now. i blame Him for my own fathers shortcomings.

how can i surrender to that? to that call? how can i say that it doesnt matter? it does. it matter. doesnt it?

and the funny thing is, i wouldnt be here if it wasnt for Him. if it wasnt for His grace, mercy and provision… i wouldnt be breathing.

i am who i am today, because He loves me. even when i cannot admit it to myself. its the truth.