Three Looks at Fathers and Daughters

"...in my father lies an example of faithful devotion to God—steady—through times of great blessing and adversity."

Editorial by Aimee Herd (June 18th, 2007)

EDITOR'S NOTE: Although Father's Day has passed, it's not too late to recognize the importance of the father-daughter relationship. Partially due to this fact, and also at the urging of some of our readers, I offer the following true and personal glimpses of fathers whom I have witnessed in my own life. –Aimee Herd, BCN.

(Albany, Oregon)—Our first curtain pulls back, revealing an ordinary, suburban kitchen. My mother checks the oven at one end, while in the opposite corner a medium-tall man—freshly home from work—laces his fingers and bends down, forming a "swing" for his little girl who, laughing, climbs aboard for the ride. (Photo: My father holding me as a baby, in our New Jersey back yard.)

My father's trademark slacks with dress shirt, familiar grey briefcase and "smell-of-the-office" are permanently etched upon my mind, eclipsed only by what has been engraved upon my heart by knowing him.

That treasure includes a love for music and the arts; the example of striving to do what is right in every circumstance, caring about others without prejudice against any race or religion, devotion to family and to honoring the commitment of marriage. And, in my father lies an example of faithful devotion to God—steady—through times of great blessing and adversity.

And perhaps it's been the latter where I see him shine the most these days...as my father carefully tends to my mother's needs while she recovers from surgery. Just yesterday he showed me the beautiful ring he had given my mother weeks before, on their 65th anniversary. When we jokingly asked mom what she had given him as a present, my father replied for her: "Herself," he said in all seriousness. "She is here with me, and I thought I was going to lose her."

A Glimpse of a Single Dad

Our second curtain opens on my oldest brother, I have two, and both have gleaned from my father (and mother) qualities which have made them easily some of the most caring men I know. However, my oldest brother has a wonderful claim-to-fame in my book; raising his little girl into a beautiful young woman, by himself.

After a divorce, he sought and gained custody of his daughter, and moved across the country to be closer to family. And, while it couldn't have been easy for him as a single dad, many of the same treasures that I garnered from my own father, I have seen passed down to his daughter as well.

Last year my brother gave her away in marriage to a warm and caring man, much like himself, and my father's living legacy continues.

A Glimpse of the Ultimate Father

The last curtain pulls open on an almost deserted beach, the first strands of the morning sun reach from the horizon, causing the overnight darkness to creep away. There is only one visible, near the stalks of tall green dune grass—a child, digging her toes deep into the soft, dry sand—but she is not alone.

She is talking to her Father, unseen, but always there—she knows He is watching, she can feel His smile.

Now older, a teen, she walks the same beach—crying out to this Father, telling Him of all her age's trials, loneliness, loves won and lost—and again she knows He is there, listening and guiding.

Still later on, with a family of her own, and in the midst of all the immense joy and occasional heartache of her own marriage and raising of children, she continues this vital conversation with her ultimate Father and Friend. He has never left her, but He has always been there, through every phase, every stage of her life. When she's needed Someone to cry to, He has offered His complete understanding. When she has laughed with her husband, He has shared their joy. When she has needed more love for a situation—His has been abundant, for His love never fails.

She's no longer near her favorite beach, but one very special day, this Father reminded her of their walks and talks in a vision. In her mind, she was carefully stepping in the footprints the Father left as He walked just in front of her. She could not see in front of them, but her heart was at peace, because her Father was leading.

So precious is this relationship between father and daughter. And in all three of these glimpses, it has been the leading of a father that has brought about a lasting legacy of love and security for a young woman.

Source: Breaking Christian News

The Art of Loving Our Fathers

Ian G. Srrachan.

(Nassau, The Bahamas) I will never forget seeing my father cry for the first time. He came into the house as if walking itself was hard to do and he collapsed on the dusty burgundy couch that leaned against the living room's eastern wall. "He had so much promise." That's all he said.

My eldest brother, Winston had died.

My father's words met with no response. We all just looked at the floor.

It was a side of my father I had never seen before. A side I think I actually had tried to deny he even had.

You see, I come from what is aptly called a "broken home." I wonder who coined that term? Broken Home. God, it says so much. I was three when my father and mother separated so I have absolutely no memory of the life I had when we all lived together in the house on Peardale. In fact, my first memory of my father dates to when I was about 8 and we had moved back to Nassau from North Andros.

Our relationship was never what it ought to have been. You might say I inherited other people's feelings and ideas about my father. I had no view of my own; I accepted everything that was said about him. To put it simply, I kept my distance.

But on that April when Winston died my father came to our house to mourn the first child he ever had. And I had a brief window into the past of the man. If he were alive today, Winston would be 52. My father is 72, so he had his first son when he was 20. "He had so much promise," that's what he said. And he cried there in the dusty sofa while we looked at the floor.

I found it so easy to judge my father when I was a teenager. I found it so easy to disrespect him. But when this terrible thing happened I saw what my father had lost in this world too. I saw what he had lost and could never replace.

Now I am a man, a husband and a father of sons. Now my mother is gone and only my father remains. I look more like him now, than I did in 1996, when Winston died. I see my dad's face when I look in the mirror, not my mother's. I have his head, his shoulders, his build. And I'm old enough now to have made a fool of myself many times, to have broken more than one heart, to have failed people who counted on me. I've lived long enough to have done a whole lot of things I swore I'd never do and to have gone against my own principles more than once. These experiences have given me the humility to forgive my father and the grace to never again judge him as I did when I was just a boy. Now I see him through the lens of my own choices, mistakes and hard fought victories: and I see a man, a proud man, who worked, who loves, who faces the world with painfully-won wisdom and who seeks the face of God.

Now I know the terrible power of fathers, the awesome station they possess. A station no mother can fill, no uncle, no brother, no friend, no spar. I see for myself the incredible sway we have over the little ones, who watch our every move, repeat our every word, learn the world and the way through us. I see my 22 month old son try to put on my size 12 boots, my hat, and try to stuff my cell phone is his pampers, and I realize how responsible I will be for the man he becomes.

Now a light has come on in a dark and cold place. And I realize what I lost. I realize what I never had and I try to recreate myself in my mind's eye; I try to create a me that would have grown up with a father. I know I turned out OK and I know my mother did a hero's work in raising us. But a mother is not a father and can never be. German actress Marlene Dietrich once said, "A king, realizing his incompetence, can either delegate or abdicate his duties. A father can do neither. If only sons could see the paradox, they would understand the dilemma." A weird source for a quote perhaps, but spot on.

I can think of no greater problem in our nation today than the problem of manhood. And I can think of no greater sign of the problem of manhood than the behaviour of fathers in this country. There are few social ills I can think of that are not in some way connected to the fact that so many men today, in and out of the home, are not loving or supporting the women who bear them children, are not loving or disciplining their children, are not being the first good example of what a man is for their sons and their daughters. Today, cowardice masquerades as courage, selfishness parades as wisdom, and falsehood is called wisdom. Today love is weakness, a woman's word, and loyalty and sacrifice are for chumps. There is nothing of Christ in today's notion of manhood.

We must face our fathers and love them, we sons. We must bless our sons and teach them, we fathers. Not teach them how to hurt but how to heal, not how to break but how to mend. If we cannot understand what made our fathers the men they are, we cannot be the fathers we hope to be.

"I always felt like my children were the most beautiful children I'd ever seen." I thank God I lived to hear my father say that, as he stood in that same living room, looking at my son and feeling pride, not sorrow. I might never have known he felt that way about us, so I'm grateful. I'm just getting to know him, really. I've lost so much time.

"Until you have a son of your own... you will never know the joy, the love beyond feeling that resonates in the heart of a father as he looks upon his son. You will never know the sense of honor that makes a man want to be more than he is and to pass something good and hopeful into the hands of his son. And you will never know the heartbreak of the fathers who are haunted by the personal demons that keep them from being the men they want their sons to be." — Kent Nerburn.

Write me at ianstrakan@gmail.com and http://www.ianstrachan.wordpress.com

[Source: The Nassau Guardian]

'Why do you have to die?' 'It is for you my daughter, my joy.' I heard His voice whisper. 'You are worth it!'

I wept before the Lord! He was standing right in front of me with His arms outstretched! 'Lay all your burdens upon me, and I will give you rest'. I heard Him say. I started to take the ugly rust colored weights off of my back and hand them to my Lord. 'There are so many! 'I thought to myself as I started taking more and more off my back. 'How can He hold all of these at once?' Worry... fear.... finances.... pride.... health.... and countless others were coming off. With each one that came off I felt so much lighter. He was still there holding the ugly pile of weights. It was huge now and stretched up over his head. I could still see His loving eyes looking at me...."More my daughter!' He said as I continued to lay them on my Lord. As I was finishing I looked up! 'My weights, they are crushing Him!' I thought. 'How could I do this! I need to take some back!' 'No' He said gently, 'pick up my yoke for it is light!' Just then I saw it. It was beautiful and sparkled like diamonds! There before me sat a beautiful golden yoke. I picked it up and placed it over my shoulders. It was as light as a feather. The feeling was beautiful! Much more than I could ever imagine. The joy I felt tingled in every nerve of my body! "Thank you Lord" I said rejoicing. It felt so good to be free! Just then I saw it. My burdens, my sins, ...they were killing him! 'No, No! I said 'My Lord My Savior, give them back!' I tried to grab them, but it was too late....blood was starting to flow from His hands and feet. The blood was for me! I was on my knees weeping now. 'No! I killed Him! I killed my Jesus!' Just then his blood started washing and cleansing every part of my being. 'I'm sorry Lord!' I cried as His blood continued to flow. 'Why do you have to die?' 'It is for you my daughter, my joy.' I heard His voice whisper. 'You are worth it!'

The Lord gave me this vision the other night! It was so real....I could hardly speak. All I could do was cry....it was refreshing yet it was horrific at the same time. He washed me that night of many burdens I have had over the last few months. He's cleansed me and made me new like He does so well! Oh how we can forget sometimes what He did just for us! And....how we never have to pick up our burdens again. He already died for them......

It was a refreshing I've needed for a while. It has been a difficult couple of months. Please pray for our family because I know God is in the midst of everything even though it seems He isn't. He will never leave us...........

[This incredible vision and testimony was shared by one of my oldest friends on her blog last week. Her family has had more troubles over the past few years than most could handle in a lifetime. Through it all, they have remained steadfast in their confidence in the Lord, an incredible testimony in and of itself. I encourage you to spend some time getting to know Jessica. She has been places that no one can imagine and she has the heart of an intercessor. She is an encourager and I know she will encourage you. I have shared this verse with her many times, because this is her promise. It is your promise as well.

Though you have made me see troubles, many and bitter,
you will restore my life again;
from the depths of the earth
you will again bring me up.

You will increase my honor
and comfort me once again.

Psalm 71:20-21

Be sure to leave her a comment to introduce yourself. This is what these blogs are for--to encourage one another and to meet new sisters in the Lord. Just tell her I sent you.)

Too Busy for Quiet Time?

"The good news is, you can nurture a growing relationship with God even in this hectic season."

by: Carol Garborg

Three years ago, our family headed to a Newsboys concert at the Minnesota State Fair. After finding our seats, Davis, our six-year-old, said, "Dad, I gotta go to the bathroom." They scrambled down bleachers, waited in line, and within minutes were back cheering along with everyone else. Twenty minutes later, Davis needed another bathroom trip. Then another. Seven trips later, my frustrated husband and I shook our heads. What was going on?

Dr. Brown delivered the diagnosis two weeks later: "Your son has juvenile diabetes."

In the weeks following this diagnosis, I felt too overwhelmed to have my quiet time with God. While I'd always made a daily effort to meet with him, suddenly my reality didn't cooperate with 30-minute or 15-minute devotional time slots. I have to be more disciplined, I told myself. When I tried—and failed—I felt guilty.

Continued here...

[Thanks Debby for sharing this article with us. If you have something to share please email me.]

Just a Quick Post

Hey Ladies...
It's been a while since I've posted anything on here. We were away on vacation last week. I have a few thoughts (some random and some on purpose) bouncing around my head that I'm hoping to post here later this week, but for now I just had to share this with you.

Many of you will remember Ron Cantor and his wife Elana. They have ministered to our body on a number of occasions. They also happen to be dear friends to my husband and me. In his email newsletter this week he sent a link to a message he had recently shared on a speaking tour in the States. It's entitled "Taking Off the Grave Clothes."

"This message is about living the Abundant Life for which Yeshua died. It is about silencing the accusing voice of the enemy and receiving God's love. May God use it to strengthen, bless and encourage your soul. We had a lot of fun preaching it, and I believe you will enjoy it. (If you want to download the message to put on a CD or give to someone else, right click on the link and choose, save target as. Click save.)" (Taken from Ron and Elana's weekly newsletter.)

I hope that you are blessed by this message as I was. Ron will be with us again this September. I will let you know dates and more info soon.
Enjoy!