Mending Fences

When I was sixteen, my family had moved to a new church.  I was
invited to visit some friends back on our former district, but it was
against my parents' better judgment to let a 16-year old take a train
alone to East Rockaway, New York.  My dad was the key to my planned
visit and he had said no.
 
It was a defining moment in our relationship because I suffocated our
relationship in silence until my father relented in frustration.  With
my stubbornness, I "won" a battle of adolescent independence but lost
a growing relationship by tearing the bond between us.
 
I spent New Year's Day 1976 lamenting the price that I paid to get
what I wanted. I was very familiar with the story of the prodigal son,
having grown up in a pastor's home.  I had determined to say I was
sorry for the pain I had caused, and hoped to pick up where I had left
off. But the story didn't end like it was supposed to end.  I did ask
and receive forgiveness, but the wounds remained to be healed.  I had
squandered my family capital because of selfishness and pride.
 
In my mind, it took nearly a decade to rebuild our relationship to
where it should have been all along. My wife's family helped me to
understand that it isn't enough to have my loved ones somehow "know"
that I love them; I needed to tell them and to show them.  My
father-in-law is an ever-hugging teddy bear, demonstrating the outward
affection that I needed to exhibit with my family.  Since then, I have
a personal ambition to tell and to show my father (and mother) that I
love them...often.
 
The other defining moment in our relationship came with another lesson
in demonstrative love.  I had the rare opportunity for one-on-one time
with my dad, accompanying him on a trip to Ohio and back.  He talked
with me about our places in the succession of father and son saying
that all fathers will make mistakes with their children.  His father
made mistakes with him, and he made mistakes with me, but that we each
need to come to the place of forgiving our fathers for those mistakes.
He then asked me to forgive him for those errors he thought he had
committed and for those he would never know about. Even though he must
have already known that his Christian son must have forgiven him
before that moment, he needed to ask and he needed to hear me tell
him.
 
Indeed, I had already forgiven my dad long before his confession.
Still, there was something very liberating in the asking and in the
granting of his request out loud that brought our relationship full
circle, making it whole and complete.  It was an outward demonstration
of love that I am determined to carry on as I raise my children.  How
will you spend your family capital?