The Broken Road

This is a story about a broken road, a road that eventually lead me to: love, peace, patience and the joy that I had always desired to have in my heart.

My Dad worked hard. He worked in the oilfield, he worked 24/7, his home was the rig. It was never really comfortable for him or for us when he had a rare day off, when he ate and slept in “our” home. He was a guest, in a home he worked hard to provide, filled with his 3 kids, his wife and a sassy dog, a dog that didn’t like him. 

He didn’t have a daddy chair in the family room, Mother claimed the one recliner, Dad used the sofa and quickly reclined and fell asleep, he snored, he snored loud.

There was only one television in our home, we had to be quiet and play in another room. Dad was sleeping in the family room, so no television, which was fine, his snoring drowned out the sound. 

Dad was a binge drinker, an angry drinker.  When my parents divorced, the chasm between he and I  grew deep, very deep.  He traveled overseas, started a new family, we saw him briefly, once a year or so, usually for a few hours. He was more like a stranger than a Dad. 

I knew the Bible commanded me to honor him. There is honor, and there is pretending to honor.  I pretended, I smiled, but I had no good feelings for him. My feelings said he was absent most of my life, I had no respect for him, my heart towards him was cold. I lived this way until I was 26 years old. 

Dad’s second marriage ended, for similar reasons as his first. Dad was still all about the job, but the hours on the rigs changed to 30 days on and 30 days off.  Dad spent his off days in Texas, in his childhood home, and was a devoted son to his aging mother, she was living in a nursing home.  

I found love, Ken and his 3 children were about to become my family.  On a Saturday afternoon, Ken, the kids and I showed up, unannounced at Dad’s doorstep. I was having resistance from my Mother regarding the marriage, the stepchildren, how fast we fell in love and were planning to marry. Ken wanted to meet my Dad, and ask him for my hand. He had talked to my Mother, she freely shared her opinion of the chances of the marriage lasting and didn’t approve of our haste. 

In 1980, showing up without phoning wasn’t as weird as it sounds today.  We knocked on the front door, the 5 of us stood picture perfect as the door opened, we were all smiles. To my surprise, Dad was unshaven, bloodshot eyes, he looked like he slept in his clothes, the smell of alcohol was strong.  

He asked us to have a seat in the family room and said he needed to grab a quick shave before we started the visit.  We all sat down, but I got up and knocked on the bathroom door.  I walked in, saw him at the sink, shaving cream on his face and I told him I was going to get married and become an instant Mother.  He ran the razor over his thick whiskers, looked at me and said, “If that is what you want, I support you gal.”  He didn’t ask any questions, he trusted me to make a wise decision.  I looked into his bloodshot eyes and saw my Dad for the first time, in an instant I forgave him for so much. Things I didn’t realize I held against him.  My heart was changed, I was free from resentment, dropping a weight and a heavy chain that I didn’t know I was carrying. He was still a flawed man, but he was my Dad, for better or for worse. 

He loved Ken, he loved the kids, he was a great father to me until the day he went to Heaven.  He had flaws to the end, so did I. 

When that relationship was healed, the road that was broken brought healing and restored my wounded and hard heart.  

I had been forgiven so much when I accepted Jesus as my Savior, it became easier and easier to forgive others. 

Luke 7:36-50, Exodus 20:12

God is so Good!