I’ve always had a love/hate relationship with Father’s day. As a child and teen, I struggled to develop a deep connection with my father. Although I never doubted that he loved me, our difference in age created a huge chasm between us that never resolved before his passing.
Approximately three years ago, I found myself dragging my soul through the darkest corridor I’ve ever traveled through. It didn’t help that I created this mess myself. Somewhere along the line of trying to navigate life outside of my calling….
I sat there on the couch, surrounded by people that I loved and cared about, but at that moment I would have given anything for an excuse to get up and leave.
I felt helpless as I watched my father help his younger sister, my Aunt Celia, into our family car. As a child, I looked forward to the yearly visits that she and my uncle Joe would make to see us. She carried such a vibrant spirit that radiated of love and happiness.
As much as I might criticize my friend’s husband, the truth of the matter is that I too struggle with arrogance and pride. I too have a propensity to throw fits of cataclysmic proportions when things do not go my way. No matter how much I would like to deny it, I have a tendency to try to control people and situations through manipulative behaviors. Although, I have surrendered this vice to God, it still beacons for my attention.
From the moment that I lied…, I felt shame and regret. I have yet to attempt to tell a lie that didn’t leave me feeling the same way. As I’ve journeyed through life, I’ve come to the conclusion that that I don’t want to live under a cloud of shame.
“As much as we as humans love story-lines, the reality is that we actively participate in one every moment of our lives.”
I chose to confront this question with a clear and conscious decision to love myself regardless of the opinions, or judgement, of others. I concluded that the gospel is much more than a “get out of hell for free” card. It is an invitation for me
For quite some time, my emotional health could be compared to a bottle of soda-pop that had been violently shaken and was waiting to surprise any person who dared to open it. In turn, my emotional pain began to manifest in other ways.
