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My Father
By the time I was ten, I was totally
ashamed of my father.
All my friends called him names: Quasi-Moto, hunchback, monster, little Frankenstein, the
crooked little man with the crooked little cane.
At first it hurt when they called him those things,
but soon I found myself agreeing with them.
He was ugly, and I knew it!
My father was born with something called parastremmatic dwarfism. The disease made
him stop growing when he was about thirteen
and caused his body to twist and turn into a
grotesque shape. It wasn't too bad when he
was a kid. I saw pictures of him when he was
about my age He was a little short but quite
good-looking. Even when he met my mother
and married her when he was nineteen, he still
looked pretty normal. He was still short and
walked with a slight limp, but he was able to
do just about anything. Mother said, "He even
used to be a great dancer."
Soon after my birth, things started getting
worse. Another genetic disorder took over, and
his left foot started turning out, almost backward.
His head and neck shifted over to the right; his
neck became rigid and he had to look over his left shoulder a bit. His right arm curled in and up, and
his index finger almost touched his elbow. His spine warped to look something like a big, old roller coaster and it caused his torso to lie sideways instead of straight up and down like a normal person. His
walk became slow, awkward, and deliberate. He
had to almost drag his left foot as he used his
deformed right arm to balance his gait.
I hated to be seen with him.
Everyone stared.
They seemed to pity me.
I knew he must have done something
really bad to have God hate him that much.
By the time I was seventeen, I was blaming all
my problems on my father. I didn't have the
right boyfriends because of him. I didn't drive
the right car because of him. I wasn't pretty
enough because of him. I didn't have the right
jobs because of him. I wasn't happy
because of him.
Anything that was wrong with me, or my life,
was because of him. If my father had been good-looking like Jane's father, or successful like Paul's father, or worldly like Terry's father, I would be perfect! I knew that for sure.
The night of my senior prom came, and Father had
to place one more nail in my coffin; he had
volunteered to be one of the chaperones at the
dance. My heart just sank when he told me. I
stormed into my room, slammed the door, threw
myself on the bed, and cried. "Three more weeks
and I'll be out of here!" I screamed into my pillow. "Three more weeks and I will have graduated and
be moving away to college." I sat up and took a
deep breath. "God, please make my father go
away and leave me alone. He keeps sticking his
big nose in everything I do. Just make him
disappear, so that I can have a good time at
the dance."
I got dressed, my date picked me up, and we went
to the prom. Father followed in his car behind us. When we arrived, Father seemed to vanish into the pink chiffon drapes that hung everywhere in the auditorium. I thanked God that He had heard my prayer. At least now I could have some fun.
Midway through the dance, Father came out
from behind the drapes and decided to embarrass
me again. He started dancing with my girlfriends.
One by one, he took their hand and led them to the dance floor. He then clumsily moved them in circles
as the band played. Now I tried to vanish into
the drapes.
After Jane had danced with him, she headed my
way. Oh, no! I thought. She's going to tell me he stomped on her foot or something.
"Grace," she called, "you have the greatest father"
My face fell. "What?"
She smiled at me and grabbed my shoulders. "Your father's just the best. He's funny, kind, and always finds the time to be where you need him. I wish my father was more like that."
For one of the first times in my life, I couldn't talk.
Her words confused me.
"What do you mean?"
I asked her.
Jane looked at me really strangely. "What do you mean, what do I mean? Your father's wonderful.
I remember when we were kids, and I'd sleep over
at your house. He'd always come into your room,
sit down in the chair between the twin beds, and
read us a book. I'm not sure my father can even read," she sighed, and then smiled. "Thanks for
sharing him."
Then, Jane ran off to dance with her boyfriend.
I stood there in silence.
A few minutes later,
Paul came to stand beside me.
"He's sure having a lot of fun."
"What? Who? Who is having a lot of fun?"
I asked.
"Your father. He's having a ball."
"Yeah. I guess."
I didn't know what else to say.
"You know, he's always been there," Paul said.
"I remember when you and I were on the mixed-doubles soccer team. He tried out as the coach,
but he couldn't run up and down the field,
remember? So they picked Jackie's father
instead. That didn't stop him. He showed up
for every game and did whatever needed to be
done. He was the team's biggest fan. I think he's
the reason we won so many games. Without him,
it just would have been Jackie's father running up
and down the field yelling at us. Your father made
it fun. I wish my father had been able to show up
to at least one of our games. He was always
too busy."
Paul's girlfriend came out of the restroom,
and he went to her side, leaving me once
again speechless.
My boyfriend came back with two glasses of
punch and handed me one.
"Well, what do you think of my father?"
I asked out of the blue.
Terry looked surprised.
"I like him. I always have."
"Then why did you call him names
when we were kids?"
"I don't know. Because he was different,
and because I was a dumb kid."
"When did you stop calling him names?"
I asked, trying to search my own memory.
Terry didn't even have to think about the
answer. "The day he sat down with me outside
by the pool and held me while I cried about my
mother and father's divorce. No one else would
let me talk about it. I was hurting inside, and he
could feel it. He cried with me that day.
I thought you knew."
I looked at Terry and a tear rolled down my
cheek as long-forgotten memories started
cascading into my consciousness.
When I was three, my puppy got killed by
another dog, and my father was there to hold
me and teach me what happens when the pets
we love die. When I was five, my father took
me to my first day of school. I was so scared.
So was he. We cried and held each other
that first day. The next day he became
teacher's helper.
When I was eight, I just couldn't do math. Father
sat down with me night after night, and we worked
on math problems until math became easy for me.
When I was ten, my father bought me a brand
new bike. When it was stolen, because I didn't
lock it up like I was taught to do, my father gave
me jobs to do around the house so I could make enough money to purchase another one. When I
was thirteen and my first love broke up with me,
my father was there to yell at, to blame, and to
cry with.
When I was fifteen and I got to be in the honor
society, my father was there to see me get the accolade. Now, when I was seventeen, he put up
with me no matter how nasty I became or how
high my hormones raged
As I looked at my father dancing gaily with my
friends, a big toothy grin on his face, I suddenly
saw him differently. The handicaps weren't his,
they were mine!
I had spent a great deal of my life hating the man
who loved me. I had hated the exterior that I saw,
and I had ignored the interior that contained his
God-given heart. I suddenly felt very ashamed.
I asked Terry to take me home, too overcome
with feelings to remain.
On graduation day, at my Christian high school,
my name was called, and I stood behind the podium
as the valedictorian of my class. As I looked out
over the people in the audience, my gaze rested
on my father in the front row sitting next to my
mother. He sat there, in his one and only, specially made suit, holding my mother's hand and smiling.
Overcome with emotions, my prepared speech
was to become a landmark in my life.
"Today I stand here as an honor student, able to graduate with a 4.0 average. Yes, I was in the
honor society for three years and was elected
class president for the last two years. I led our
school to championship in the debate club, and
yes, I even won a full scholarship to Kenton
State University so that I can continue to study
physics and someday become a college professor.
"What I'm here to tell you today, fellow graduates,
is that I didn't do it alone. God was there, and I
had a whole bunch of friends, teachers, and counselors who helped. Up until three weeks
ago, I thought they were the only ones I would
be thanking this evening. If I had thanked just
them, I would have been leaving out the most important person in my life. My father."
I looked down at my father and at the look
of complete shock that covered his face.
I stepped out from behind the podium and motioned
for my father to join me onstage. He made his
way slowly, awkwardly, and deliberately. He
had to drag his left foot up the stairs as he used his deformed right arm to balance his gait.
As he stood next to me at the podium, I took his
small, crippled hand in mine and held it tight.
"Sometimes we only see the silhouette of the
people around us," I said. "For years I was as
shallow as the silhouettes I saw. For almost my
entire life, I saw my father as someone to make
fun of, someone to blame, and someone to be
ashamed of. He wasn't perfect, like the fathers
my friends had.
"Well, fellow graduates, what I found out three
weeks ago is that while I was envying my friends' fathers, my friends were envying mine.That
realization hit me hard and made me look at who
I was and what I had become.
I was brought up to pray to God and hold high principles for others and myself. What I've done
most of my life is read between the lines of the
Good Book so I could justify my hatred."
Then, I turned to look my father in the face.
"Father, I owe you a big apology. I based my love
for you on what I saw and not what I felt. I forgot
to look at the one part of you that meant the most,
the big, big heart God gave you. As I move out of
high school and into life, I want you to know I could
not have had a better father. You were always
there for me, and no matter how badly I hurt you,
you still showed up. Thank you!"
I took off my mortar board and placed it on his
head, moving the tassel just so.
"You are the reason I am standing here today.
You deserve this honor, not me."
And as the audience applauded and cried with us,
I felt God's light shining down upon me as I
embraced my father more warmly than I ever
had before, tears unashamedly falling down both
our faces.
For the first time, I saw my father through God's
eyes, and I felt honored to be seen with him.
Remember:
Cherish Each Blessing and
Make Every Moment Count |
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I felt God's light shining down upon me as I
embraced my father more warmly than I ever
had before, tears unashamedly falling down both
our faces.
For the first time, I saw my father through God's
eyes, and I felt honored to be seen with him.
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