Tuesday, 17 June 2008

The fatherless child

I can call him Lord, God, faithful one, saviour, creator, anything, except Father. I can’t call him that.

I never knew my father. He disappeared before I was born. I can only assume he didn't think I’d be good enough to make hanging around worthwhile.When you’ve never known a father, it’s hard to accept a father’s love. When all you have is an empty space how can you relate to one others call father?

All the parables, all the stories in the world, don’t make it real, can’t fill a void, make known the unknown. You can say, ‘Our father, who art in heaven,’ without feeling a word of it.

And yet.

Most of my life, I’ve lived a half life. But now, I is becoming me. I’m learning how to uncover the person I was created to be.

Through my words, written and read, I’m discovering who I am. My writing is an extension of me, it makes me wholeThrough it my thoughts are given shape and substance. I have something worth saying, something worth hearing.

Through my writing I can view myself as valuable, worthy, not because I write or because of what I write but, by its very being, my writing earths my existence. My words are as much part of me as my eyes or my toes. Before finding them, I was missing an element as vital to my well-being as calcium is to my bones.

Releasing them allows me to be me, wholly me.

And the key to that release has been meeting God, being accepted into his family.So I live in that new life, no longer a fatherless child. Instead one whose family has demonstrated a father’s love and allowed me to experiment, learn, develop and build confidence without fear of being knocked back.

I used to think that growing up without a father was my loss but maybe it was his.I still can’t call God Father but one day, when we meet, it’ll be the only word I’ll need.


Anonymous said...

((hugs)) Thats beautiful!

reader Wil said...

That's beautiful! There are people who call God Mother or Parent. At least Someone who has taken the trouble to care for us and show this in the life of the great Jewish teacher, Jesus. At least that´s what I believe.


this is very thought provoking

reader Wil said...

Thank you Liz for this extra information on the Viking origine of Swansea!

Joyce said...

I think that if you keep on, you'll find that you have a Father, too. It may take a while, but it is what God wants for you, so it will come. He is Father to the Fatherless.

I'm new to your blog. I you through Prairie Rose's Garden. She is a neightbor of mine, though we've only blog-met.

Grand Life said...

Your writing is beautiful.

The Dotterel said...

But when you meet you won't need words. Mother, father, cousin, aunt - they'll all seem so inadequte!

Fat, frumpy and fifty... said...

wow that is deep, and profound and so pignant l'm all teary!!
l feel quite priviledged to read it...thanks..
you are quite a writer, such prose!

Mike Golch said...

Liz, I thought that I'd pop over for a visit from Nick's bytes.I saw the waveing griffin and just had to visit. I hope that you are haveing a great day. I'm glad that I was luck enough to have had my Dad around. Both He and Mom have gone home to be with God. Dad in 1984(he was 58) Mom in 2003 (she was 73)
Hugs and Blessings. Mike G.said that

Anonymous said...

My baby soon would be born as a fatherless child. I hope, that one day she would see God as her Father.