Forks squeaked and clanged as the conversation slowly died. My mind was constantly wandering off into the thick silence. I was at odds with my heart and my soul was screaming,” can we stop pretending this is normal.” As I struggled to bear any words, my eyes met hers from across the table. Her lips curled into a small smile and I could see the resemblance. We lingered there for a minute catching up on years of lost glances. My eyes moved on and I become overwhelmed with sadness and disgust. I had spent many lonely nights of childhood longing for an older sister…but this wasn’t how it was supposed to happen.
When dinner ended I found myself sitting on the side porch with her diving into the first hour of our relationship. I asked deep questions and she willingly answered. She opened up to me about struggles of growing up fatherless and what it was like when he came into her life during her teenage years only to drop off the face of the earth three years later. My heart ached. I have been hurt by the presence of my father yet can’t bring myself to imagine the hurt that comes with the complete lack of him. She looked up at me and said, “Alexandra, I’ve known about you for years.” Then hot anger began to burn through my chest. I genuinely couldn’t wrap my head around the complexity of emotions I was feeling. I settled on hatred towards this idea of my dad knowing everything and saying nothing. As I stared at her it became more real. I am indeed sitting in front of my long lost sister, that a learned about two weeks ago, who is the result of my dad not being faithful…woof.
Three weeks later I walked into a friend’s house to deliver cookie dough where I was introduced to an old friend of hers. She asked me many questions one of them being: how many siblings do you have? Instinctively I answered saying that I have two older brothers. Then I froze…I had forgotten her. I got into my car where I cried enough tears to fill an ocean and the reality of the situation hit me. For a few moments I threw myself a pity-party and felt like I was drowning in the waves. Then it came time to come back to what I know is true; to stop blaming The Father for my father.
The Father is faithful. The Father is thoughtful. The Father is love.
I am a deeply loved daughter.
I carry an essence of strength.
There is value within my heart.
The thing about faith in God is that it doesn’t keep us from the chaos of earth. For me, Jesus whispers sweet reminders when life feels like too much. He speaks bravery. He speaks strength. He promises to turn ‘a Valley of Trouble into a gateway of hope’ (Hosea 2:15). He has promised blessings and I’m holding on for the gateway of hope.
