In 2001 I graduated high school. Right before my graduation, my dad called to ask if he could come.
I told him absolutely not, with a few other choice words. I was a 17-year old kid with a broken heart, overcome with feelings of abandonment and rejection.
I reminded him he was not my father and I hung up the phone.
He respected my wishes and didn’t show up at my graduation. I remember looking up multiple times to see if he was there. I thought maybe it would be the one boundary in my life he would actually cross that I would be okay with. Nope. He respected it.
Joel 2:25 says, ““I will repay you for the years the locusts have eaten.”
In 2008 we sat in my living room together and I popped in a VHS tape of my high school graduation. We watched it together, both still broken in our own ways, but desperately trying to to figure out how to be a daughter and father.
He cried. I cried. I didn’t have the capability then to wonder what his tears were about, but today, I can imagine they represented many things: sadness over years lost, regret caused by addiction, and a pride in his daughter, knowing despite his decisions, he played a part in creating me.
Yesterday I started a new class at one of the men’s prisons. I looked up and saw a side view of this guy. His nose. His nose y’all reminded me of my dad’s. And in an instant I desperately missed the man I barely got to know.
And I kept my composure because I’m totally a “professional” and weeping before grown men in prison uniforms on day one is usually not the best way to start things.
But Joel 2:25 says, “I will repay you for the years the locusts have eaten.”
#232404. That was my dad’s DOC number.
And yesterday I stood before 15 more men and shared my dad’s story, and I reminded these guys that it wasn’t too late for them to be fathers to their children who are desperate to know them.
And some of them believed me. And before it’s over, the rest of them will believe me.
I am forever grateful for the day we sat in my living room and he watched me graduate. God didn’t just restore that for me, he restored that for my dad.
A year later he died.
It’s not the way I would have planned it, but my dad is changing lives every day. His life was NOT wasted, despite his past. Despite his ending.
This morning I both grieve and heal. I grieve for loss, but I mourn with hope, because in December 2008, I sat next to my dad’s bedside and introduced him to Jesus. Ain’t no addiction taking that away!
Joel 2:25 says, “I will repay you for the years the locusts have eaten.”