The Patriot Post® · Wounds of Our Fathers

I hope you fathers had a great Father’s Day weekend. I know I did. We had my son and his wife, my daughter, and most of my grandchildren over for dinner. As we prayed before the meal, I realized how different my life has been since becoming a Christian. My real father left when my brother and I were four years old. My mother left us shortly after that.

After spending six months at a state-run orphanage, we were bailed out by my mother’s parents. At four years old, nothing is more fun than living with grandpa and grandma! But after almost two years, the fun was over and mom came back. Not that we weren’t glad to see her, but things were different. Some months later, my mother remarried, and we now had this blended family of five kids, soon to be six. It takes some time to get used to new siblings.

My brother and I are identical twins, which was fun at school, but not so much at home. Apparently, my personality (or lack of it) reminded my mom of my dad. From age six until I joined the Marine Corps, my mom reminded me that I was going to be a loser just like my alcoholic, always-angry father. It was branded in my mind.

My stepfather was always “Dad.” He adopted all three of my mother’s children and never treated us any differently than his biological kids. However, he was part of what Tom Brokaw referred to as “The Greatest Generation.” He served in the Army during World War II, as had my biological father.

That generation of men seemed to keep their emotions to themselves. They were not very good at sharing their feelings. My mother would tell us she loved us, usually when she was drinking, which was often. When she wasn’t drinking, she was always angry about something. As I grew older, I realized my dad never seemed to want to know what happened in the home while he was working two jobs. And he never said, “I love you, son!”

After getting married, I didn’t see my parents much. They were in Ohio and we lived in Nebraska. My mother was not comfortable around us after we became Christians. When we did see them, I would tell my dad I loved him and then give him a hug. He was not a hugger, but I was bigger, so I hugged him anyway. After years of this “abuse,” which he put up with and seemingly became more comfortable with, Dad actually mumbled, “I wuv you too.” Yeah, that’s what it sounded like.

It’s amazing what the love of a father can do for his children. It was hard after becoming a Christian to comprehend a Heavenly Father who loved me unconditionally, but the closer I got to Him, the easier it became to understand and receive Him. My dad, whom I never referred to as my stepfather, grew more comfortable with accepting my love and endured the hugs. In the latter years of his life, he actually said it — out loud! “I love you too, son.” I literally cried the first time he said it.

After many years working with those suffering from addiction, we realized the majority of them never had the love of a father. Like me, it took many of them time to understand and then receive the love of their Heavenly Father. We all need that kind of unconditional love and acceptance — not because we are good, but because God is good!

If you are a father, never stop telling your children you love them. Never stop hugging them and letting them know how much you care. At every family gathering, my family knows they’re not getting out the door until I hug them and tell them I love them and am praying for them.

Go and do likewise!

Semper Fidelis