reunion

I put in a four hour shift this morning to make time for my dad's family reunion. Work went well, and I more than survived being the man in charge -- one of the entitled girls called me mean, and the others had a great morning, so it probably means I was doing the job correctly :)

To give you some background, I haven't spent much time with my dad's family since my great-grandmother died in elementary school. All of the other generations would gather at her house during their spare time, and I have few recollections of this time, aside from the look of the house and the game of solitaire that one of my great uncles always seemed to be playing. During this season, my aunt or older cousin used to watch my brother and I from time to time; my aunt affectionately (I think) referred to me as "motormouth."

Many years have passed, and there have always been a lot of skeletons in my dad's closet. To me, he was always the over-protective disciplinarian that never understood that I had emotional needs -- that I felt unloved. We started doing these reunions last year, and it's painful to watch him in silence as his cousins describe how abusive my grandparents were to him. He nods his head to verify their stories (and how he received the worst of my grandmother's beatings), but its clear there are many uncried tears in my proud father: tears with which I would love to empathize.

It's more "God" than "coincidental" that He has geared my heart towards freedom from this level of pain, and it reminds me how well some function in society with a myriad of wounds. To the outsider, my dad is a quiet, hard-working man, who is prudent with his money and raised his children to be model citizens. Nothing society requires of him is lacking or corrupted. But functioning is not satisfying in itself, and my dad's life is a grand reminder of the residue left by deep, untreated pain and unforgiveness.

I don't know that I will ever be allowed the blessing to see my dad in an emotionally honest place, but I do love him, and I thank God for the grace He's allowed in understanding my dad's story, even when he resists being understood. We may only have so many reunions left here on earth, but I welcome the warm (and often cold) stories of reality.