Growing up, I was always jealous of my friends who had dads. I would go to Limited TOO (LOL) or to any clothing store really and the shirt “Daddy’s Little Girl” would pierce my heart and I would think to myself, “why am I not good enough for a dad?”
Daddy. Dad. Father. Papi. Pa. STRANGE WORDS. Because I didn’t grow up using these words, they are a cluster of empty words I cannot comprehend. The words have no meaning for me except they leave behind a feeling of emptiness and though I am ignorant to the word, it has had such a power over me. I’ve known no different. I used to believe that maybe I wasn’t loved, or that maybe I was the lucky name that got drawn out of the life hat that decided “hmm this girl won’t have a dad”. Though now, I am two months away from 23, I understand that it didn’t happen this way but rather it was a mix of actions, feelings, decisions, people and simply human nature that led to me not grow up with a father. Nonetheless, my heart still stings when I come face to face with a Daddy’s little girl, or when Father’s Day comes around and I am left at church standing alone as everyone goes to pray with their daddies, holding back the flood of tears that so desperately want out.
I wish I could tell you that not having a dad doesn’t affect me and that there aren’t tears wanting to race down my cheeks as I write this, that there isn’t a knot in my throat that is making me hold my breath as I type…. Sadly it isn’t true. I am constantly in a process of healing, of anger, of forgiveness, of reconciliation,
and one of trusting that my Heavenly and perfect Father is not man to fail me, that He is not man to forsake me, and that He is actually very much a lover of me.
But today I want to focus on the parent I do have. I have been so privileged to grow up as mommy’s princess. My mom, since I can remember, has been my entire world. I have seen her strong, yet so tender. I have seen her quiet and patient, yet firm and a discipliner. And through it all she has loved my brother and I so well. I have never lacked or not had a roof over my head because she always made it happen.
I do not know what it is like to be a mom because I am not in that season yet, but I do know what it is like to have a single mom who has been victorious. The Lord knew what he was doing when He gave me my mom. She has guided me and loved me through every season. I was the angry child who hated the world, the rebellious teenager who hated her mom and was sent to the assistant principal’s office every day, and now I am the young adult figuring out my finances and my career and my love life and through it all, she is supportive. I can’t imagine what my life would be without her and I never want to imagine my world without her.
I am strong and bold and fierce and adventurous and loved because of how my mom chose to stay, because she chose to be around, because she chose me.
You see, God knows how to turn bad situations around. This fatherless girl grew up with the best mom possible. And though society came against her, finances lacked at times, overtime at work was a must, and she grew weary, she fought the fight. This is the power of a single mom. To take the resources you DO have, despite what has happened and who has walked out, and use them to raise little people who will one day become adults.
Mom, I love you. Happy Birthday! I rise and call you blessed. I pray that you may have 100 more years here on this earth and an eternity in heaven. You are amazing and 43 has never looked so good. I am blessed to call you mom and I am so thankful for what you’ve done for us and how you continue to take care of us. I am a little mad that you are vegetarian now because now I am always hungry LOL Chicken Tenders for life.
You have helped me dance in His love ❤