To My Father

There are lot of things I've been meaning to catch up on in my blog, but I haven't had the time or the patience to sit down and write them. Not to mention, I'm half-afraid to write at the moment because I'm waiting on the answer to the most important question in my life. And yes, I'm aware that I'm still being annoyingly vague. I will continue to be so until I receive my answer, because thinking about it just stresses me out.

Don't worry, the story I'm about to tell has a happy ending.

Sometimes, I am reminded of how incredibly blessed I am to have been raised by my parents. They are, simply put, utterly incredible. My mom is amazing. She's my best friend, one whom I can always count on to help me out when I'm struggling. But today's entry is specially about my dad.

Now, this story is a few weeks old, but that doesn't make it any less meaningful, and frankly, I owe it to myself and to my dad to document it properly.

As college kids, we all go through some steep learning curves as we strike out on our own and begin building our own lives. Looking back over the last four years, I barely recognize the gangly, shakily-confident teenager who graduated early and flew out on a plane on her own to start college life without her parents. I've learned so much since then, but somehow, I never managed to truly master the art of budgeting.

I won't go into the painful details, but essentially, I found myself trapped in a cycle of too many expenses and not enough income. By the time I cut back on everything but the bare essentials, it was too late. Overdraft issues had kicked in. Distraught and overwhelmed, I emailed my father and begged him for help. Emailed. Because I was too ashamed to call. I knew that I should be old enough to avoid making such big mistakes, but I had nowhere else to turn. I lacked the means and the know-how to fix it on my own.

This is how my father taught me what it means to be Christlike. I can't describe the love and tenderness in his voice when he called me the next day to find out more about my situation. To my complete surprise, he wasn't angry. Not in the least. He didn't even respond with disappointment. Don't get me wrong, he didn't miss a single chance to impress upon me how important it was for me to learn from the mistakes I'd made, but as he guided me through setting up a budget and accounting for my future expenditures, I felt encouraged rather than ashamed.

He gave me a loan of money to help my finances stabilize. And it was a lot of money. More than I could have dared to actually ask for, considering how recently my family has moved and the fact that I have four younger siblings who depend on him.

Over the course of several days, I came to realize that from the second he read my email, he was intending to use that money to help me, and he only waited until I had learned what he wanted to teach me to actually give it to me. In a sense, as soon as I reached out to him, the money was already mine, but it was conditional on my willingness to learn from my experiences.

A little while later, we were talking again on the phone and he asked me why I hadn't come to him sooner. I can never lie to my dad, so I told him the simple truth: that I was ashamed. I'd known for years that budgeting was important, but I simply hadn't paid enough attention to it. I also didn't want to place that burden on my family. I knew they didn't have money to just throw away, and helping me might hurt them. It was then that my father uttered the most Christlike words I have ever heard.

"All I wish is that you had come to me sooner. I could have helped you avoid so much pain and anxiety, and we could have fixed this problem months ago."

There were no I told you so's, you knew better's or why didn't you listen when I told you that?'s. Just a pure and simple desire to protect me from pain. There was no limit to his love. He would have done much more to help me if I had needed it.

And in that moment, I came to understand my Savior on a much more intimate level. I suddenly saw Him, full of tenderness and reassurance, speaking to His children, "Come unto me, all ye that labor and are heavy laden, and I will give you rest." He never places a limit on how heavily laden we can be, or how many times we can return to Him to receive rest. The Atonement has no expiration date. No limit to what it can heal. And just as my father only wished to teach me, the Lord does not greet our repentance with criticism and censure. Instead He teaches us, even as He salves the aches of guilt and shame with the reassurance that we are loved.

Through my earthly father, I have come to know my Father in Heaven so much better than I could have on my own. Of all the wonderful things that make my father the man he is, his example of Christlike love and teaching is the most valuable. I hope that someday I can help my own children catch those same glimpses of their Heavenly Father through my example. And I fall short in some way, my children's grandfather will still be the Christlike example that he has always been, and both I and my family will benefit from the loving pattern he has set for us.

A part of me would love to save this entry for a father's day gift, but that is months away, and it can't wait. So I share it with you all. (And hopefully Mom reads this and passes it on to Dad, since I know he doesn't usually read my blog). 

Thank you, Dad. I will always love you for everything that you are.