My dad and I

My dad and I -- we've had our fair share of crossing swords. In recent years, our relationship has evolved -- for the better, I think -- but this doesn't mean that we don't quarrel, or shout, or cry; usually, it's a combination of all of the above. The difference now, I guess, is that we don't walk away afterwards, and even through the tears, we can put it all aside for just that one second, say "I love you," and then continue with the shouting and crying.

It took a near-death experience for us to understand how important it was -- this relationship that we have; we may never get the chance to rebuild broken ones.

My dad -- he loves us so much that I cannot even begin to tell you. That's why he's always afraid that we'll fall down; that we'll make mistakes; that we'll get hurt. He'd gladly play the martyr, but he'd never let us do the same. And the problems arise because this is not a balance that you can strike.

My dad -- he stands up for what he believes in: for God's truth, for the only truth he knows. And that's what we've learnt to do -- not just by what he says, but mostly by what he does. But it always seems like the very person we expect to give us a pat on the back is the one who bursts our bubble.

"Just sit down and keep quiet," he says. "Otherwise you're going to get hurt."

God knows I've sat down many times -- kept my fair share of quietness. But after a while, you wonder if the gnawing inside of you is worth it; and you realise that you're going to get hurt even if you keep quiet, especially if you sit on your hands. Others may not be able to hurt you, but you're going to get hurt anyway -- and it's going to be more painful.

How can something so right be so wrong? That's how it feels, to have someone shut you down when what you needed most was just for them to stand beside you.

My dad -- he feels betrayed every time we make a decision contrary to his advice. A rejection of his authority, of sorts. I don't think he knows how difficult -- or easy -- some decisions are to make. And while his opinion matters the world to us, there are other factors that complete the equation. It doesn't mean that we're belittling his wealth of experience or judgment, it just means that we made a choice.

We make choices, and sometimes all he can do is to guide us -- but we're going to have to learn too; from our mistakes, from our victories, for our life to live. I know that he wants to do more than that -- if he could, he'd make us queens of the world -- but I hope he understands that his guidance is everything we could have hoped for; so many of the decisions in our life depend on it, that it's become part of our lives too.

We make choices, and he doesn't want us to live with the pain of regret. But the only decisions I've ever regretted are those that were not in obedience to God's word, to God's will. And even those, God has used for good.

***

The reason why there are times where we simply cannot sit down and shut up, is simply because we know that he wouldn't.

***

Dear Daddy,

Thank you for always wanting the best for us; for wanting to love us, protect us, bless us, more and more every day. Even though our disagreement causes us both incredible anguish, it also shows me more of your heart; most of all, it shows me how God can use even this pain for good.

Thank you for being the father I could never have imagined or hoped for. Thank you for being so much more.

I love you, Dad.