So special. I pray your memories of him and his legacy will sweeten and fill your heart this Father's day. That live he filled you with is such a wonderful reflection of how our Heavenly Father loves us.
Thank you. I am so grateful God chose him for my father. And so very grateful we have a Father in Heaven Who loves us so very, very much. Father of us…💗
Wow, how lovely. I can’t help but think while I read this of how unlike most fathers yours was, and how powerfully rhythms of rejection have also been ingrained in little bodies.
That is true. And it is very sad. The rhythms of rejection and fear that form in little bodies are just as real—and just as lasting—as the rhythms of love and safety. I never take that lightly.
I never even knew this story until the final years of my father’s life. What I knew was that I slept horribly—and that I could only sleep with a metronome set to a very specific speed, and a book on tape with a particular kind of male voice. My father and I kept what we called back and forth journals. When he finally shared this memory, I was stunned. I wrote back about the metronome and the voice. When the journal returned to me, he had written in large letters: “You do this?! I trained myself to sleep on my back for you!”
Our nervous systems are being formed before we even know it. Presence matters. And as you so gently named—its absence, or its fear, matters too. And forms us just as deeply.
I believe it can be healed. Not always easily. Not always with the parent still present or willing. But I have seen Jesus meet people in those oldest, deepest places. And I hold that hope carefully—not as a quick answer, but as a true one.
There is a verse I keep returning to for those whose earliest rhythms were shaped by absence or fear rather than safety:
“When my father and my mother forsake me, then the Lord will take me up.”
— Psalm 27:10
He does not wait for us to have had perfect parents. He simply takes us up. And notice David does not say if—he says when. He knew this was a real and common human wound, not an exception.
Thank you for reading this so tenderly. And for making room for the whole truth of it.
I am grateful you are my sister and friend in Him. What a blessing!
You articulated this beautifully. I agree there is a path to healing that lives in the Lord and is open for all, though it may be a long and hard road to walk. I feel blessed to learn from your thoughtful words. Thank you for the verse application, I will keep it in my pocket for others who may need this type of encouragement.
Yes. The spiral road of formation we all walk ever bringing us closer and closer. Thank you for your very gracious words. They touch my heart. I, too, feel blessed by your wonderful words and posts. So encouraging. I love that verse. Blessings, my friend.
So special. I pray your memories of him and his legacy will sweeten and fill your heart this Father's day. That live he filled you with is such a wonderful reflection of how our Heavenly Father loves us.
Thank you. I am so grateful God chose him for my father. And so very grateful we have a Father in Heaven Who loves us so very, very much. Father of us…💗
Wow, how lovely. I can’t help but think while I read this of how unlike most fathers yours was, and how powerfully rhythms of rejection have also been ingrained in little bodies.
That is true. And it is very sad. The rhythms of rejection and fear that form in little bodies are just as real—and just as lasting—as the rhythms of love and safety. I never take that lightly.
I never even knew this story until the final years of my father’s life. What I knew was that I slept horribly—and that I could only sleep with a metronome set to a very specific speed, and a book on tape with a particular kind of male voice. My father and I kept what we called back and forth journals. When he finally shared this memory, I was stunned. I wrote back about the metronome and the voice. When the journal returned to me, he had written in large letters: “You do this?! I trained myself to sleep on my back for you!”
Our nervous systems are being formed before we even know it. Presence matters. And as you so gently named—its absence, or its fear, matters too. And forms us just as deeply.
I believe it can be healed. Not always easily. Not always with the parent still present or willing. But I have seen Jesus meet people in those oldest, deepest places. And I hold that hope carefully—not as a quick answer, but as a true one.
There is a verse I keep returning to for those whose earliest rhythms were shaped by absence or fear rather than safety:
“When my father and my mother forsake me, then the Lord will take me up.”
— Psalm 27:10
He does not wait for us to have had perfect parents. He simply takes us up. And notice David does not say if—he says when. He knew this was a real and common human wound, not an exception.
Thank you for reading this so tenderly. And for making room for the whole truth of it.
I am grateful you are my sister and friend in Him. What a blessing!
You articulated this beautifully. I agree there is a path to healing that lives in the Lord and is open for all, though it may be a long and hard road to walk. I feel blessed to learn from your thoughtful words. Thank you for the verse application, I will keep it in my pocket for others who may need this type of encouragement.
Yes. The spiral road of formation we all walk ever bringing us closer and closer. Thank you for your very gracious words. They touch my heart. I, too, feel blessed by your wonderful words and posts. So encouraging. I love that verse. Blessings, my friend.
Beautiful writing!
Thank you, friend. Your family is blessed to have you.