Last night I heard a wonderful reflection on The Lord's Prayer, offered by a fellow parishioner and dear friend. The beginning of it caused me to reflect a little on what this prayer means to me.
Unlike my friend, I don't have many fond memories of my earthly father. In fact, speaking of "my father" is a little tricky. Do I mean my biological father? Rarely. He decided soon after I was born that life with my mom was a little too much like what he'd been trying to escape from, which maybe hadn't been so awful after all. I'm glad he went back to his family; it's where he belonged. But four and a half decades later, I still wonder: did he ever think of me again?
Most often when I say "Dad," I'm referring to my adoptive father, who married my mom when I was around 3. One of my earliest memories is of being carried into his house on his shoulder, when we moved in. I fondly remember going to Orioles' games, and one Colts' game, with him, and watching both on television often. He taught me to appreciate sports as a spectator, and because of his longing to relive the glory days of his youthful athletic prowess - abilities which I didn't share with him - to dread them as a participant. I know he tried to accept me as his own, but in retrospect I think he never quite managed it. Eventually he drowned in the bottle by which he attempted to escape his misery. That leaves the worst anecdote untold, but I pray he has accepted the peace and love in death that eluded him in life.
Rarely do I refer to my stepfather in any other way than as "my stepfather." For one thing, he didn't marry my mom until I was grown, though he was very much a part of our lives by my mid-teens. He taught me many useful things, and nurtured my self-confidence in ways Dad just wasn't equipped to do. Aside from that, I choose to say little about him here, mostly because I've forgiven him my deepest hurt as I've received similar forgiveness myself. We don't speak often, but I always pray for the best for him.
Which brings us, at last, back to this wonderful prayer. Even though my own experiences of earthly fatherhood have not been generally positive - and I realize I'm not alone in that - I know I have a Dad who loves me perfectly. Our Father, our wonderful God, is a Papa who is always eager to draw us into his loving embrace. We need never fear him; though the circumstances of life may vacillate between excruciating pain and abundant joy, our Divine Daddy is with us, sharing our joy and comforting our sorrow. Whatever we have done to distance ourselves from him, he always offers us understanding and forgiveness. Through Jesus, his eternally begotten Son by very nature, he has chosen each of us and made us a beloved son or daughter, despite having already seen all the ways we will ever lash out against him, every manner in which we'll ever hurt his other precious children. He is ever reconciling us to himself and to one another through his Son, our Savior (which I think relates to my preceeding post, as well).
I am so glad - so blessed! - to have such a wonderful Abba!
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