This is where the re-parenting part begins. It’s a message for all who grew up with so many hurts and so much confusion that they’re filled with pain when they look back. Maybe looking back is just too brutal, so to deal with the past they attempt to forget it. I met one such young lady in our prison ministry last month. I don’t know what landed her in prison, but she said she never grew up knowing what was normal. She didn’t know she could try to accomplish something that she longed for. She didn’t know she could open up with another human being about what those longings were. During one class in prison, she dared to make a pencil drawing of a bird. Others around her were amazed at what she had drawn and began asking her to draw other things, even portraits. She found she had always wanted to draw, but never knew she had it in her. In the telling of her story, she fairly glowed. For the first time in her life she was receiving affirmation about something that was important to her. It’s helping her open up to others, and it’s helping her open up to God. She’s just now, as an adult, receiving something God created our earthly fathers to do for us. She’s being re-parented.
I’m forever grateful to my Dad, Jerry Crow, for providing a good image of father for me. He was and is not perfect, yet he conveyed to me vital statements about who and I am why I was created. He didn’t do it so much by teaching, but just by being. I’m going to focus on several of these life statements in my coming posts. This post focuses on a longing we all grow up with to know that who we are matters and that we can accomplish what God has put in our hearts. Ultimately, it’s about the love of our Heavenly Father for us modeled in childhood by an earthly father.
My first big speaking engagement came when I was a senior in high school. Our Girl’s League was having a Mother-Daughter Tea. I was chosen to be the chairman of the event entitled, “Spring is Busting Out All Over.” When all the committees completed their work and the event day arrived, I would also get to be the M.C. using the microphone to welcome guests and introduce the participants.
I felt like a storm was brewing in my stomach as the big day approached. I’d never heard my voice echo in a large room as it was broadcast over a p.a. system. It had been fun sending out the invitations, decorating our cafeteria and ordering the refreshments with all the other girls. Now that all of the preliminary work was completed, I had to face the actual event. I wondered if I would look like a total fool standing before the large crowd as their hostess. I didn’t have much confidence in myself.
Mom and I were getting ready after school when the day of the tea arrived. “I’ve never talked into a microphone before.” I took a drink of water to moisten my throat that was already nervous before we even left home. “Do you realize how many people will be in the audience?” I wasn’t sure I really wanted to complete my task, but it was too late to back out then.
“I wonder who’d be coming at this time of day?” Mom went to check when the doorbell sounded. The delivery boy handed her two florist’s boxes—one for mom and one for me.
Receiving the florist’s delivery was another first for me. What could it be and who was it from? My hand trembled as I picked up the card: “To the Chairman.” The white leaves and lace surrounded four white carnations. Mom’s card read: “To the Chairman’s Mom.” Both were signed: “Love, Dad.”
Getting dressed for the event I had felt awkward. At 5’10” I was taller than all the girls at Andrew Jackson High School in 1968. I was also taller than all of the boys except for a few basketball starters. My bouffant hair style only accentuated my height. I was always dieting to try to slim down a little. The straight bangs I wore tried to cover the inevitable pimples breaking out on my forehead. The thick, swept wing glasses topped my buck-toothed smile. I felt far from lovely.
As I pinned Dad’s corsage on my black and gray voile dress with the empire waistline, my shoulders lifted. I was able to raise my chin and smile at myself in the mirror. “Dad remembered my big day! He has confidence in me. He thinks I’m pretty. Maybe I can do a good job!” The flowers sparked these thoughts that were just what I needed to be able to go to the tea with confidence and enjoy the time with Mom.
By the simple act of having flowers delivered to me, Dad let me know my special day was important to him, too. The flowers made me feel feminine. As I wore them, I knew he was encouraging me to stretch myself in trying something I’d never done before and do it in front of a crowd of people. He knew I could do a good job.
Those feelings became a part of how I chose to feel about myself. The next time I faced a new situation with a storm raging in my stomach, I was a bit more comfortable because I had done okay at the tea. From Dad’s confidence in me, I was beginning to develop confidence in myself. I didn’t know it at the time, but I was practicing skills I would need to carry out the call of God on my life.
Psalm 139 speaks of our design and worth to God:
“You made all the delicate, inner parts of my body
and knit me together in my mother’s womb.
Thank you for making me so wonderfully complex!
Your workmanship is marvelous—how well I know it.
You watched me as I was being formed in utter seclusion,
as I was woven together in the dark of the womb.
You saw me before I was born.
Every day of my life was recorded in your book.
Every moment was laid out
before a single day had passed.
How precious are your thoughts about me, O God.
They cannot be numbered!”
(verses 13-17; NLT)
As I learned that I wasn’t a disappointment to my Dad, I came to believe that I wasn’t a disappointment to God, either. God created me, knows me and thinks precious thoughts about me. That’s all a girl needs to know to find all the significance she’s ever been seeking, whether or not an earthly father was able to give it to her in childhood. God, our Heavenly Father is the perfect parent and He says it’s so. Amen.
Beth, this is so great! It didn't occur to me until I was reading this, that I, too, am being re-parented. My Dad was present, but vacant. I never knew what he thought of me and honestly I still don't, but that's okay. I know he loves me in the only way he knows how, but it is the tangibles that I receive from God that have started blossoming me and my creativity, much like the story of the woman you visited in prison ministry. When I realized that God is pleased with me and thinks I'm lovely and speaks to me and encourages me frequently through His Word and through others of His followers, I've been able to come out of the curled up huddle that I existed in for many many years. Thank you for sharing! :)
Posted by: Nikki | April 01, 2011 at 03:42 PM
This is excellent stuff, Beth. I love these writings, as inspirational as they are instructional. Good advice for a fledgling father.
Posted by: Peter Crow | April 04, 2011 at 12:13 PM