What the fire grew

     My dad and I have had a fractured relationship for a long time. I posted a while ago about some correspondence via snail mail that occurred right before Christmas. In a way, I was trying to extend an olive branch, but, more importantly, I was being obedient to something I felt God was telling me to do. Every letter I received from him seemed to be more of a laundry list of why everything was my fault. My family kept checking on me, but I told them that I was ok. And I was. I truly felt that I had peace with the fact that there was no relationship there and that he couldn't gaslight or guilt me any more.

    Or so I thought. 

    On Christmas day, my house burned down after we finished eating Christmas dinner. My husband, our 2 children, their other halves, and our daughter's best friend were inside, along with all of our fur babies, 2 of which did not make it. Within hours, it was all over social media, thanks to a friend of ours who put out a post asking for help. A team of, what I can only describe as angels, was mobilized and filled an empty home with food, bedding, toiletries and clothes in a matter of hours. The story was reposted, and the community response was absolutely overwhelming. 

    It was impossible to keep up with everyone's messages, so I periodically tried to do Facebook lives just to give updates to everyone, as well as continue to offer our thanks. 

    One day, about a week or so after the fire, I was sitting in what I am calling our temporary permanent housing, and I started to get quiet to process all of it. And, I thought about my dad. I know that he is aware that my house burned down. I'm friends with his girlfriend on social media, as well as various members of his family. And I have not heard a word from him.

    Now, by no means am I invalidating how amazing the community outreach has been, and the love that we have been shown, which has been overwhelming. But, as a daughter, as the mother of adult children, and as a human being, I would be lying if I said I wasn't a little bit hurt. First of all, I can't imagine a world in which I voluntarily did not speak to my children. And, God, forbid, if we did have a falling out, I can not imagine at least reaching out. Not necessarily to resolve our situation, just to let them know I loved them and was happy that they and their families were alive.

    I wrestled with it for a few days. Because I would feel angry at him, then I would feel guilty and almost ungrateful about the love we have received, almost like I was saying that it wasn't good enough, which was not the case. I talked to some very close sisters in Christ, I prayed about it, and I got quiet about it. I'm still sorting through the event as a whole, untangling the different pieces of all of it.

    God showed me a few things that I am so grateful for. First of all, I needed to see, first hand that I did not, in fact, have peace with my dad not being in my life. It doesn't mean that it isn't what's best. It just means that I still have some healing to do. He also showed me that, for whatever reason, my dad is not able to give me what I need from an earthly father. The details of that are between my dad and God. But, he also showed me that, in times of tragedy, in times of crisis when I need a parent, that he can give me over and above what I need. 

    And he did. And he continues to. The love that has been poured out to my family in so many ways has been beyond what we can comprehend. The way that various communities of people have rallied around us to take care of us is beyond what words can explain. God has filled the gap that I was feeling. He has allowed family members whom I have not spoken to in years to reconnect with me. He created a path for a new future as my daughter is now engaged. He has allowed us to show the love of Jesus to others, but also the hope that lies in Jesus.

    Maybe this will be what it takes to plant a seed in my dad's heart and allow the Lord to work in him. I can't presume to know what my dad is thinking and feeling about all of this. Maybe he has checked on us through various family members, I don't know. I do know that, in a crisis, every kid just wants their parent to scoop them up in their arms and say, "It's going to be ok, I've got you." And God did just that for us. And I hope that when people look at our situation they say, "Look at how God is working in the community." Maybe my dad will see it.