I have been wondering for about a year if I needed some healing in some areas from my childhood.
Then recently a few things lined up for me to come home to Colorado to spend time with my dad for this month. (That’s one of my most important relationships that could use some attention.) I had a couple of dreams with my late mother in them, some strange coincidences happened, and a beautiful invitation came from my dad. So, I bought a ticket and flew home, hoping that some time in the house I grew up would help resolve the healing that needed to happen in my soul. It wasn’t my dad that did anything wrong, he is a GREAT dad, but I don’t think I knew how to receive love growing up, and because I only have one parent left, I wanted to go back and try to do it better.
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But one day before I came, it occurred to me I should pray about my trip. Probably a good idea. And then through prayer, not that this is always a good idea, I felt led to let my fat, old-fashioned paper Bible fall open and see where my eyes landed.
The first verse my eyes went to contained this:
“May the sons come home to their fathers.”
This got my attention. My eyes suddenly welled up. It hit me that God might actually really be real, and it looks like he might have just stopped everything to be with me, and tell me something.
This verse is part of a beautiful poem in Isaiah 49:14-18. I read the rest of the stanza through blurry eyes. It starts out by God saying ‘Do mothers desert their babies after they suckle at their breasts? Even parents will fail you, but I will never fail you. In fact, I have written your name on the palm of my hand.’ Then He goes on to say, ‘But Fathers, look up. Your sons will come home to you and your house will be filled with your children again.’
And I realized that going home and working on the relationship with my dad will not solve my emotional problems. Only my heavenly Father can do that. But sons coming home to fathers is still a very good thing. And maybe God is using that in my life in some way.
And that gave me the freedom to not require anything of my dad except to just be himself.
And it is in that spirit that I have just been hanging out with him. And it is so good for my soul. We sit side by side, watching TV and joking about what we are seeing. We go on runs, side by side. We give each other back rubs (our love language). We do projects side by side, and I just get to hang out with him a lot.
I know now that it is God that must heal the dry parts in my soul that we all have. But now I feel like I am gaining something I didn’t realize I was missing. I am gaining a really good, meaningful new friend that was always waiting to love me in the house I grew up in.
His name is Doug Boone. He’s my dad.
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Raw Spoon, 7-14-15
