My father was born. June 19, 1947.
Maybe because we think of these things as we get older, or because my dad has/is going through health issues as of late, or maybe because I am carrying a child of my own...but I have been thinking about my grandmother and the birth of her son.
I have many questions for my grandma.
I wonder what the day was like? How much did he weigh? Was he "early" or late? What his siblings thought of him? What she thought of him?
Answers I will never know as my grandmother is deceased, and my dad has no recollection of answers to these questions. Maybe they never talked about it, maybe, after 12 kids, she didn't remember, maybe it's too difficult for him to remember.
Born the 6th child of 12, to a Catholic mother and athiest father, the pain of his childhood was deep. His memories often clouded with an undertone of times gone wrong. Snapshots of a mother overwhelmed with unhappiness, a father boiling with anger. Bad choices made. Wounds cut deep. The enemies lies about not being wanted, not being loved. Lies.
" For I know the plans I have for you..."
I am overwhelmed with the knowledge that God knows all of these things, he knows all of the intimate details of my fathers birth and life. He planned them. He was watching over my father then, just as he watches over him now. He chose my father for "such a time as this" and placed in his pathway the people he needed. Through my dads willingness to change what he "knew" or was "taught", God over and abundantly blessed his life. And, in turn, gave me the best possible dad that I could ask for...the dad that I needed, to help shape me into whom I am today.
Happy 60th Dad...I am so very thankful you never fully believed any of those lies.
