Fathering is Easy, Dadding is Hard

I didn't know my dad until I was 12. Then after that, I didn't know him again until adulthood. At 27 he decided to know me. Then, at 28 I decided I did not want to know him after discovering some disheartening information that I felt put my family at risk. The on again, off again awkwardness of trying to have a relationship with this "dad" I so desperately longed for was an emotionally draining aspect of growing up and has caused me much pain as an adult in my role as "dad."

As a child, I prayed every night (every single night - without fail) to meet my dad, whom I didn't know. "Lord, please let me meet my dad before I die." Looking back, I think it was strange that the child-me prayed only to meet my dad and not to know my dad. I remember longing for that relationship, someone to teach me things, take me places, show me how to be a man. But in my prayer, I only asked for an encounter - to meet him. Was it because I was afraid or did I feel that I didn't deserve the relationship? Maybe, in my mind, meeting him was already too much to ask for. 

It's amazing how our experiences as children can shape our attitude about ourselves and about life. I've never been one of those parents or advocates of "building self-esteem," but I do believing in fostering appropriate confidence in our children. Sometimes for lack of confidence, we esteem (lift up, worship) ourselves. I think the most "cocky" of individuals are typically those who have the least confidence - why else is there such a need to prove their worth? 

I'm not a cocky person, or at least I've never felt that way. But, I do know that I sometimes (often times if we are being honest) try to prove my worth to those I love most, somehow, trying to battle the fear that they'll reject me too if they see that I'm really not as valuable as I make myself seem. I grew up feeling like I wasn't worthy of a dad, assuming there was some intrinsic lack in me. This is what absence does to a child. It isn't so much as rejection, but a perception of low value. 

At 12, my mom found my dad, and through a series of connections and some minor planning, I met him. My prayer had been answered after roughly 8 years of praying. It was a happy three months, until the phone calls and letters stopped. There I was again, no value a dad could appreciate. But God is gracious. My mom, who loved and sacrificed so much for us, was a necessary anchor for me. She constantly encouraged, affirmed, and loved me through all the bouts of pain. But, God was not just gracious with my mom. He gave me the best brother and sister a boy with low self-esteem could have. 

My big brother, when he was able and home (there was a 14 year gap between us), would practice baseball with me - drilling pitching mechanics, yelling at me not to be lazy, making me go get the ball when I'd get angry and throw it as hard as I could in any direction. "Put your arm back. Push the ball, don't pull it. Get your elbow behind it." he'd say as we were in the yard in front of our trailer. When I was even smaller, I remember him taking me to the gym while he worked out. I think he was just responsible for me at the time, but I remember thinking that he took me because he just wanted me around. Thanks to Matt, I have an awesome memory of stretching with Jerry Rice in a room at the YMCA in Greenville, MS. To this day, as adults, I can still hear a sense of love and protectiveness in my brothers voice. He will never know what he means to me. Us guys aren't supposed to talk about this stuff too much or people will think we're weak. Matt, I love you man. You were the man I wanted to be growing up. 

As an added bit of undeserved grace, God gave me my sister before I even existed. Reagan was my "under-study mom" for all the moments my mom was having to work to care for her family. There were times I wished I got more time with mom, but I never felt unloved, rejected, or slighted by my mom. She loved us to the fullest, and we knew the sacrifices she made to make sure we were taken care of. But as a child, God knew I'd need a nurturer in moments that she couldn't be there. Reagan was this for me. I remember us fighting all the time! But, I'll always remember her being protective of me as we walked home from school in Leland. I'm pretty sure she ran down a bus one time because a little boy called me a name from the window as it passed. Reagan probably doesn't remember it though - I seem to always remember things she thinks I dreamed. She pulled all my teeth, every one. And even shoved a bully (at church of all places) into the boys bathroom and told him if he ever put a hand on her little brother she'd put some on him. No offense to Matt, but I grew up thinking Reagan could beat up an MMA fighter. Reagan, I love you and credit you with the seeds of confidence that were planted in me as a child. 

Flashing forward to today, as a dad myself now, I battle constant fears of "How do I do this?!" I don't know how to be a dad, but I remember how to love. And as I go through life with the daily pulls of my time, energy, and thoughts, I have to remind myself of what the feelings of absence do to a child. I have to remind myself that just because my kids have a father in the home doesn't mean that I'm being their dad. I have to remind myself to invest time, energy, and thought in my children. I want my kids to grow up confident. Not self-esteeming, but sure of their place and their names. They are Powells, which mean they are mine. God has granted me these amazing blessings that I get to steward while one this earth and my constant prayer is that God would provide reprieve for them when I don't measure up. Not reprieve to alleviate my duty, but grace for my kids when I fail because I'm human. 

"Behold, children are a heritage from the Lord,

the fruit of the womb a reward.

Like arrows in the hand of a warrio

are the children of one's youth.

Blessed is the man

who fills his quiver with them!

He shall not be put to shame

when he speaks with his enemies in the gate."

Psalm 127:3-5