Growing up, I hated this day. It was just another reminder about my dad who wasn’t there. My dad left before I was born, but I would write him a letter or make him a stupid card on this day and then cry because I didn’t know where, or who, he was and throw it away. I didn’t even know his name until I was about 10. Once I found it out, there were a couple of times when I would look through the phonebook and call every “James Webb” I could find. I’d imagine what he was doing and where he was living and wonder why he didn’t want me. So, Father’s Day was nothing special to me until I was 18.
I found my dad when I was 18. It was an adventure. It was exciting and disappointing all at once. My dad, I learned, was not really a marrying/commitment type of guy. He was a “free-spirit” and kind of went where the wind blew him. He was a veteran of Vietnam and part of a large sibling group in a time when things weren’t easy. He did what he could and sometimes, wasn’t able to do much more than that. When he left, it wasn’t because of me-but he knew that it would be better for me without him.
During the time I met my Dad, I was attending Charleston Southern and was with a group of very strong & encouraging Christian friends. I spent some time in prayer and trying to figure things out. I didn’t want to be abandoned, I wanted to be loved, I wanted to have a father figure in my life that wouldn’t disappoint. I accepted Christ my freshman year of college and still continued to struggle and find my identity within him. The summer of 2003 I was a summer missionary in Hilton Head Island. Some sermon topics were about baptism and an offer to be baptized on the following Sunday. I prayed and made the decision to be baptized on the next Sunday-Father’s Day. On a day that stood for anger and bitterness, I was declaring that I was a child of God-someone who wouldn’t abandon me, who would love me, and who wouldn’t disappoint.
I visited with Dad a couple times a year and always enjoyed our time. I had six years with my dad before he got sick. The very last time I saw my dad, he told me that he loved me and that he always had, that he was sorry that he left, that he was not there for me and he wished that we had more time together.
Now, with Father’s Day tomorrow, I remind myself not to be overcome with sadness because it is a time to celebrate:
Celebrate that I was able to spend time with my Dad.
Celebrate the new role for Bobby as a Father to our daughter Alyssa.
Celebrate and remember the fact that I am a child of God and that He is my Father.
