YHVH Rapha

He said, “If you listen carefully to the voice of the Lord your God and do what is right in his eyes, if you pay attention to his commands and keep all his decrees, I will not bring on you any of the diseases I brought on the Egyptians, for I am the Lord, who heals you.” ex 15.26

Archive for dad

Pain from my father and mother

I’ve heard before that “it isn’t until one has children that one truly understands the sacrifices made by one’s parents” and yeah, I rolled my eyes.  You don’t know what they did or what they were really like, I’d think.

I was raised to look at the negative side of things, to look at what was lost, to focus on the ugliness of life.  It’s been hard for me to think of anything positive from my childhood.

As an adult, I guess I have been afraid to let go of the yuck.  I don’t mean not forgiving, I have forgiven my parents many times.  I mean letting go of the ugliness and negative side of things and losses.

I think I should be looking for the benefits and gains and positive things that happened when I was a child.

But I don’t want to.  Because to do that would be like saying the ugliness had no effect on me, that life was ok and it wasn’t really that bad anyway.

Maybe that’s not really what “letting go” is after all?

I’m coming to realize that there was more to my history than the negative, and if I am going to move on from this I need to see my past more clearly.

Because holding onto the yuck is holding me back, keeping me from seeing benefits.

And part of that is appreciating the blessings I’ve had, instead of always complaining about the troubles and pains.



I guess the thing that surprised me the most about my father’s death, besides how little I knew about him, was was how painful it was to me.  How incredibly much I miss him. even t hough I didn’t know him very well at all.

I know his name, his birthdate. I can look up where he was born. I know a little bit about his childhood, from things that I read after his death, from things he told me.

How did he meet my mom, I wonder. What was their dating and engagement and marriage like, from his perspective. I’ll never know.  What was I like as a child. That one has come up a few times, especially as I watch my young daughter playig or learning to walk and talk.  Did I play the way she does? Did I say   words like she does?

I’ll never know.  I could ask my mom, but I doubt she’d know. There were so many of us kids to keep track of, ya know. She couldn’t possibly remember each of us individually.  But I bet my dad remembered.

Validation, positives, compliments, were hard to come by when I was growing up.  I was convinced that I was a horrible child.   (But that’s a post for another time.)  Just a few weeks before my father passed away he said something beautiful and lovely and endearing to me that I don’t think I’ll ever forget.  And yet, why did he wait 30+ years to say it? Or was he saying it the whole time, and I just don’t remember.  I’ll never know.

I miss my dad so badly.

The thought comes to mind, “Now God is my dad.”  I never was able to figure out what that means. Sounds so pat, so trivial. Like something you say when you have to say something, but don’t know what to say.

My younger sister, she has a great grasp on the “God as father” concept.

I guess I’ll learn about this now.

What was I saying

I really, really, intended to keep posting.  Sorry.  I got some bad news in the beginning of September and it sent me into a tailspin for a few months.  See, I got the call that my dad had died. Just suddenly and unexpectedly.  I was able to go to his funeral (in a nother state) and visit with family.  All the kids were there, with their kids.  In a sense it was agood trip, except of course that we were saying Goodbye to dad.

We kids sat around and talked late nights.  Last time we had been all together was, what, a decade ago? Or more.  So good to visit with these people.  It’s hard to get around each other’s opinions and such, one or two it’s like walking on eggshells trying to avoid offending them.

One thing that stands out is we didn’t relly know our dad.  And we stayed up late talking about the garbage in our family.  Like did Dad have a drinking problem, does that explain the hole in the wall.  Who was he aiming for.  Someone said I mentioned this, five years ago, I have no memory of it.  One brother claims to remember all sorts of horrid stuff, he’s much younger than me and I don’t remember it so how could he?  One brother obviously had something hard to say but could not work up the courage to say it.

funerals are hard anyway, but with the added flavor of abuse they’re just yukky.