For several years, I have struggled dealing with whether or not to track down my biological father. Just this week I came to a peace-giving decision. I just don’t need to find him. Why would I want a relationship with a man who raped my biological mother? I had some romantic notion that he would be sorry for what he did sixty years ago, and wondered if my biological mother was okay, and would want to know his offspring. What a ridiculous long shot that would all be! So I have let that go.
And then yesterday, out of the blue, a wonderful thought came to me about my Dad. He is the man who committed legally to adopt me and keep me as his daughter and give me a life full of blessings and opportunities. I realized that my father never spoke a cross word to me. Never.
One time, I made a big mistake at the church youth dance on a Friday night. A bunch of the girls brought liquor all mixed up in a Mason jar and we drank it down and proceeded to get busted. My poor mother had to come get me. Mortified. My father was out of the country but when he returned, he said not one word to me for a couple of weeks. And this is what he finally said. He smiled and said, “Well, I went behind the barn myself a couple of times.”
So that is the man I call father. Earthy father, that is. I have never had a problem with my heavenly Father. The two of them are enjoying each other in heaven as we speak.