The Man that Loved Me First
I have started a few actual blog posts since starting this blog, but today this is the one to be posted first in honor of Father’s Day.
In the 26 years of having breath in my lungs, the last year has probably been the best state of my relationship with my dad. See, I was the only girl—I have 4 brothers—and my dad didn’t grow up in a very emotional home. So when it came to the only girl… well, often times, like many kids with their parents, Pop and I didn’t see eye-to-eye. Sometimes it felt like we saw more like eye-to-foot. He was very organized and like everything a certain way and everything in a certain place. I, on the other hand, was… well, I called it being “artistic”, which was code word for everything is everywhere but I know exactly where everything is. Dad grew up British in Guyana and England, where children were “to be seen and not heard” and I had the independence and occasional sassiness of the women on my mom’s side of the family’s blood coursing through my veins; I just wanted to be heard. The situations about caused some friction in our communication, but I was still “daddy’s little girl”. I always knew I was loved.
Some situations transpired in childhood that directly affected my relationship with my dad, though he was indirectly involved. In fact, he knew nothing until about 10 years later. From childhood, fast-forward to age 22 when I was going through group counseling in college. God had brought childhood wounds up to the surface in a very evident way and they could no longer return to a dormant state, hidden off in the dark recesses of my heart. A great, big spotlight shown on areas in my heart to be confronted and that started the healing process of my broken relationship with my dad. Now, I can’t tell you that my dad felt it was as broken as I felt it was, but perception is reality and my reality was that our relationship needed mending, healing; and here I was, a young adult on the verge of getting engaged, in college, studying counseling, and subconsciously holding on to wounds from my childhood that would deeply affect my ability to counsel and help others find healing. I’d like to say that through group counseling everything was healed and better. Ha! Nope. It was vital in the part it played in where I am now, but the months in group attributed to the peeling back of a few layers… necessary layers. I was, however, a different person when I finished group… and felt strong enough to talk to my parents about what I had walked through both in childhood and in group counseling. I remember as if it just happened a few minutes ago my dad apologizing, taking responsibility, not for anything that he had done, but for what he hadn’t done and how it made me feel… 10 years later. And I knew I was loved.
Over the next couple years, there were rough patches through wedding planning and post-weddingness. Our relationship got much better and then it got strained. I can’t tell you when it started to get better again… But what I can tell you is I noticed him changing, growing. See, as a child in the Bobb-Semple household, there was no open forum; there was no stating your case or explanation or debate. Dad’s word was it and it was final and it was not wrong. [HISTORY INPUT: My parents never actually dated. They knew they were supposed to get married, so they did and the next month found out they were pregnant and had my brother John Stephen two months before their first anniversary. Every two years after for the next 6 years, they had a child. The youngest, Joshua, just turned 24.There’s a reason for this history.] But one day, Dad responded in a way that admitted he was wrong and needed help. I remember a day when he admitted he was wrong and needed better understanding. And then I saw how he was loving Mom. I saw how they were becoming friends after 30 years of having at least one child at home… They’d had only a little over a month as a married couple before the new season of Parenthood Preparation began. I saw them falling in love like I have absolutely never seen in my life. I have seen them look into each other’s eyes like I’ve never seen.
See, my Dad is 10 years and 10 months older than my mom. There’s the old saying that, “You can’t teach an old dog new tricks,” but my dad’s life has said au contraire. When you have a heart of Father’s and you truly seek out His heart, His love changes you. Not that Dad wasn’t before… and I honestly can’t tell you what his heart’s cry has been in his prayer closet. But what I can tell you is this: I have never seen my dad grow right before my eyes as I have in the last year. No parent is a perfect parent thought their heart desires to be a perfect parent. No parent wants to inflict emotional wounds or any other kind of wounds on their children intentionally. This is obviously why we are SO in need of God’s grace and mercy and guidance daily. My parents are both first-generation Christians, not Christians as in Protestants, but Pentecostals. I can honestly say that they did the best they could with the examples they were given.
Dad, Pop, things haven’t always been easy and our relationship has never been perfect, but thank you for the legacy you have left and are still leaving your family to love deeply, serve wholeheartedly, walk by faith, trust the heart, will, and plan of God (no matter what), to pray about everything and seek His face, not just His hand, and to bridge the gap between sides… to strive for unity. Thank you for the firm foundation you laid for your family. Thank you for how strongly and passionately you love your children. Thank you for how much you love others and desire to teach and train and disciple others. Thank you for allowing Father to stretch you and grow you even when others your age may think they know it all and there’s no room to change. Thank you for being willing to “learn new tricks” and be vulnerable and honest. Thank you for the way you love Jesus, the way you love Mom, and the way you love me… after all, you were the first man to do so. I love you always, Daddy. Happy Father’s Day. Your quiver is full.
“Behold, children are a heritage from the LORD, the fruit of the womb a reward.
Like arrows in the hand of a warrior are the children of one’s youth.
Blessed is the man who fills his quiver with them!”
Psalm 127:3-5a