For about the past 30 years I have loathed Father’s Day. Since the girls have come in to our lives I’ve suffered silently and cried alone – I didn’t want to ruin it for Warren. Why do I hate it so much? For those of you who don’t know my story, my father died on Father’s Day when I was 7. I was sitting on his lap and we were laughing when he had a massive heart attack – the second in 3 years.

There is a quote by Anne Sexton that I love; “It doesn’t matter who my father was; it matters who I remember he was.” Unfortunately for me, those memories have faded over the years and I am left with pictures that I cherish to try and remember. Sometimes I make up stories to go with the pictures and try to fool myself that I really do remember. But, who he was to me is burned in to my soul. He was a kind, compassionate, and gentle man. He was a patient man but could be quick tempered – and boy was it a temper – with those who should have known better. He loved the Lord and he was crazy in love with me.

It took the Emmaus weekends and Family to help me overcome my anger and bitterness at God for yanking him away from me before we were finished. But I continue to wonder even know; is that how people felt when Jesus was taken? The disciples? Mary Magdalene, Mary, His earthly family? All of his followers? On and on and on…Did they feel cheated? Did they feel robbed, that their time together was too short – that they weren’t finished? There was so much more to learn and do! Did they beg God for just a little more time… just a little bit longer…please? Did we share the same anger, frustration and bitterness?

Why? Why when we love God and worship him do we have to feel this way? Is it right? No. Is it fair? No. Is it love? Yes. As crazy as it sounds, God is crazy about us – just as my father was crazy about me. As we’re told in Matthew 10:30 He knows how many hairs are on our head – now that is a Father’s love!

My father taught me many things, and although it took me 27 years; how to cope, deal with and live through pain was one of them. How I chose to live my life is a tribute to the rest of his lessons. Jesus’ followers had to learn the same lessons. While our lessons are sometime one’s we would rather avoid, our Father – earthly and more importantly Heavenly – has laid the foundation in our hearts that allow us to be reflections of their love.

Like many people, I often would wonder why God let bad things happen until one day I visualized a picture hanging in my mom’s house. It states “God doesn’t promise us an easy life, He promises us help to live it.” As the years have passed I have grown to understand what many of Jesus’ followers did also in the time following the crucifixion: God doesn’t let bad things happen, but He is with us while they are happening. We have to acknowledge His presence and thank him, not for the bad things, but for being with us, helping us through it. That’s what family does. That’s what my Fathers do for me – it just so happens they’re both doing it from heaven.

So, I don’t loathe Father’s Day any more, we really don’t make a big deal out of it. We go to church, much like every Sunday, but I worship differently, more deeply. I spend a lot of time talking to my Heavenly Father through out the day. He’s as crazy about me as I am Him. I’m definitely a “Daddy’s Girl”.