There is a concept that is translated into our early emotional brain, that our parents love set point is how we will interpret God’s largeness or smallness of how we can be loved. The funny thing is whatever mastery or impoverished experience you have with your papa doesn’t really matter to GOD or God’s caliber of strength for unlimited love. But the limitations of our minds can stop the unending flow of love, rushing at all times our way.
My Dad was a good Dad. He provided for us; we lived in a suburban home, attended public school, and traveled a lot with our Avion travel trailer. He loves history, he enjoyed Star Trek and sci-fi fiction books, and he loved God.
I think it is confusing to understand the way folks love us, their capacity to give, meet our love language with generosity and care. I think most parents don’t really have a clue. They love us the way they know to love us, do their best, and based on our neediness or feelings of enough; we can interpret the way they are and have been with us as wonderful or lacking.
I know I always wanted my Dad to see me as valuable and important. From our family line, girls were mothers and homemakers while the boys got the college education and attention, preparing them for a life of taking care of others financially. My pop actually told me I did not need to learn about finances as I was going to be a mom, and my husband would take care of everything. But that was his world; he was not slighting me; he was preparing me for a world like his, the one he grew up in.
I guess my Dad’s love language might be spending time, but not long times; he likes to feel you there and then move on. The other thing that touched him was my attention and love for his mom, and when an action I did had my Grandmother Adelia experiencing joy, my father called to express his heartfelt appreciation for what I had done to bring cheer to his mom.
He showed his love by providing home, and hearth, travel, and church/God. My Dad also read scripture to us daily and had us pray as a family. He still does; if you are with him at mealtime, the Bible or iPad with Bible lesson loaded in is shared and reflected on.
I know growing up, each of my siblings got a different father. The boys got a stern disciplinarian, maybe too hard at a time on them, but done with his notion that he wanted them to be good men. The girls got little attention one to one, but we got him more as the leader of the family, who took care of the travel chores, paid bills, and ate suppers with us.
My Dad recently seems more tender. He is 89, his health frail, and his hearing weak. Yet, HE PERKS UP when I call, says Weelllll Hell-low Jewlie with a North Dakota twang he’s never lost. You hear in his voice an excitement to chat, get our news, and as always, have short, sweet conversations where he always says, I Lover you, Jewlie. And most recently, he is saying, I know it’s all going to work out; hang in there.
I did get the win with my father acknowledging my significance; six years back, they came for a visit to my California home. My Dad gave praise and admiration, feeling so proud his daughter had really made it.
You can’t always get what you ‘want.’
But if you try sometimes, You get what you need!
I think the experience of lack with parents in our minds is in the nature of wanting, desiring, and longing for some perfect ideal we hold to. When we feel wounded, not seen, cherished, loved, or respected, we assign the responsibility of happiness (for the rest of our days) to an outside force, in this case, Dad. What if Dad and Mom were not burdened with being the all and all God figure in our early life? What if, even with all their fobales and flaws, they gave us everything we needed. Ultimately we got our life, and likely some lovely attributes from them. Even bad parents give us something good.
Fathers day is looking to fathers in celebration, and on this day, we can set aside what was missing and celebrate the love that was given! Happy fathers day!
