On Dads & Cheeks & Love
The other day I found our son, Joel, singing to his littlest, two-year-old Elsie,
“You are my sunshine, my only sunshine,
you make me happy when skies are gray.
You’ll never know dear how much I love you,
please don’t take my sunshine away.”
I smiled as a foggy memory came to mind. I told Joel that I thought my dad sang that to me when I was Elsie’s age. I think he was milking our cow and singing away with his very blue eyes dancing, his smile wide and endearing. But I had to add, as much as I love that memory, I’m not sure if it was really a memory or if I just wanted it to be. But I hold it close to my heart, choosing to trust the memory of my little two-year-old self.
I think my dad was happy in those days, the ones where he was farming and raising his family. We had a few cows and horses and some machinery. I think those were mostly sunny times for our little rag-a-muffin family.
Things changed as the farming didn’t work out and the pull of bars and women got stronger. But that one memory still gives me hope that perhaps he did see me, delight in me, and actually love me.
Just yesterday I read in Hosea 11:4 where God was talking about Israel and how much he loved her. He was quoted, “To them, I was like one who lifts a little child to the cheek and I bent down to feed them.”
I have no memory of my dad bending down and lifting me to his cheek, although he probably did. But I do remember his singing, “You are my sunshine.” That memory is like a “lifting to the cheek.” It is as a “bending down to feed.” It is the way God cared for His people. That memory is one of the ways God has fed me.
The years went on, as years are prone to do, and our family changed. Alcohol and passions took over and my dad had to leave our family. My young ten-year-old eyes saw him as weak and inconsistent. He was no longer flashing those confident blue eyes. They were now clouded with tears replacing the wide smile. No more sunshine. The gray had moved in. And within a few years, he died in a road construction accident.
The story of my dad is much more complicated than this. I guess I’m thinking of him because Memorial Day just passed a few weeks ago and I recalled how my cousin came up to me a few years ago and told me that my dad had done something heroic when he was in the army during WW2. My cousin felt he should have been recognized for delivering ammunition to his comrades while under enemy fire.
Ahh. There’s another memory to tuck into my sunshine folder but this one goes into the “I can be proud of him” envelope. That envelope is slim but Memorial Day always reminds me. I wish there were more witnessing tales there because his littlest one had a dad-shaped hole in her heart and a few more proud stories would have been helpful.
Several years later, I headed off to college and joined up with a Monday Night Prayer and Praise Group. I only remember one of these gatherings although we met every Monday evening. On that particular night, we came into the room at the local church and sat in a circle on the floor. Our student leader stood up, holding a small book in his hand, The Jesus Person Pocket Promise Book. (This was back in the 70s when Jesus People were actually a thing.) Within the book, 867 scriptural promises were divided into categories for spiritual, personal, and future needs. Our leader held up the book and told us to pass it around the circle, open it to a random page, and place a finger on one of the promises. That was our promise for the night!
I dutifully took the little book when it came to me, opened it up, and carefully placed my finger on a promise. I looked down and found that I had landed on promise # 718 where I read Psalm 27:10. “When my father and mother forsake me, then the Lord will take me up.”
Something suddenly cleared in my mind as I realized that I had no earthly dad but I did have a heavenly Dad who had welcomed me into His family. He had lifted this child to His cheek and fed me with an identity and a secure place where love does not walk out the door and whose love completes and does not disappoint.
I have spent my life growing closer to this Father God of mine as He kept his hand on my back, guiding me by offering help as I was able to receive it: my hero-brother’s wisdom, my dear faith-filled mother, many truly astounding scriptures, wonderful opportunities to serve, and best of all - Himself - as I grew to trust the truth He had for me. I have come to realize that He indeed saw me, little DeeDee, in the barnyard being sung over by my dad and He knew how the turmoil, the leaving, and the death of my dad would wound me. But my little heart was in His hands even in the wounding where he slowly wooed me back into the safety of His ever-present faithfulness.
I have grown to love and trust God who quietly filled the fatherless part of me. On the hard days, I hang on and sit close and trust his presence within me. I am bewildered by those who feel no need of Him, feel no desire for him. He is my lifeblood, my truth, my heart, my love. There are days when I toddle off forgetting the eyes that are ever gazing at me, but I come back. Where would I go? Why would I want to live as an orphan when my Dad is ever-present and keeps me close to his heart, lifting me to his cheek with warmth and kindness?
This year I started meeting with a spiritual director who has guided me in gentle ways. Through scripture, God has shown me that the insecurity of my early life was not random. I was not hidden from his sight. His hand was upon me even then. He was the one who made me brave, who filled me with a willingness to risk even though I was unsure and afraid. He was with me. I walked with him. And I continue.