That said, I awoke last night, from a hard poke of the conscience over the last blog post I wrote. After thinking about what I had written, I realized that I hadn't finished well with regard to my dad. I painted a very unflattering picture (and yes, the truth will do that) without adding the finishing touches, making the portrait complete.
Yes, I will admit that I have spent the majority of my years on this earth, angry at my dad, or in the very least, tolerating him but largely ignoring him. I do not believe that I have ever been out-right disrespectful to him, but let's be real, intentional coldness and dismissal are every bit as disrespectful; it's just more passive-aggressive.
I'm not proud of that fact at all. The only excuse I can offer is that it was my defense to keep from getting hurt or honestly, feeling. Period. A strong characteristic that runs through the family DNA or at least, the emotional psyche of the family is a propensity to extreme sensitivity. It's a heightened sense of perception that's hard to explain.
I have a theory (that I will keep to myself) as to how this sensitivity is created. Suffice it to say that someone with the characteristic is always on emotional patrol, constantly doing a mood "dipstick" test in all social situations. A person with this characteristic is particularly sensitive to all non-verbals. The slightest elevation of an eyebrow or a barely-perceptible change of tone in a voice can be enough to put the observer on high alert.
Needless to say, if you have this characteristic, it is exhausting. You are constantly reading and interpreting the energy of the people around you, which as a consequence, sucks all your energy. Not surprisingly, these people are introverts, who need some serious battery-charging after an extended period of social interaction.
Anyway, I have this characteristic, which means that I have made it a practice to constantly "dipstick" my dad's (and now, everybody else's) emotional state whenever I see him. As I alluded, growing up, Dad's moods could turn on a dime, and you never knew what would set him off. So for the sake of self-preservation and protection, I kept my distance, which I have no doubt was extremely hurtful to him, because, well, he is extremely sensitive and perceptive as well.
However, "the rest of the story" is that Dad has chilled considerably over the years. Time will do that. In my observation, age and the passage of time takes away the hard edges of temperament (unless one has Alzheimer's, which is a completely different story). Medication and therapy have also helped him to try to control the run-away, overdrive switch that anxiety can trip. Dad still has episodes, which I'm sure are equally frustrating to him as they are to us, but it's nothing like it used to be.
Equally important is the fact that I have changed. Adding more details to the story helped to explain (not excuse) my dad and his behavior.
And that's true of everyone on this earth. There is always more to the story. The questions are 1) are you willing to share your story? and 2) are you willing to listen to someone else's story with an empathetic ear?
A word about that word, empathy. I think it's misunderstood. To have empathy for someone is to put yourself in their shoes and given the number of facts provided, try to understand something from their point-of-view. Even though there are characteristics that both have in common, empathy is not sympathy. Pity and feeling sorry for someone is not necessary with empathy; in fact, those two characteristics can be counter-productive in an empathetic situation.
Empathy is an attempt to join one in his/her pain - an acknowledgement for the difficulties of the past or present. With sympathy, there is still a distance. It, too, is an acknowledge of pain, but there is a divide that separates.
Empathy listens with as much of a non-judgmental ear, to the extent that we fallen humans can do. To be human is to be selfish, and no matter how "good" a person is or is perceived to be, the bottom line is that we fight our selfish nature all our lives, and a part of that fight is against the judgment of others. True empathy is to be fully present, taking in the experience (including emotions) of another, reserving commentary and interpretation.
And that's really all we want, isn't it? We just want to be heard.
Yes, as I mentioned before, we are all broken. We all have baggage. We all have a backstory. We all have experienced the best and the worst (each person has his/her threshhold of what that is). We want acknowledgement and validation for the garbage we have endured. Rarely, if ever, do we want to be told what to do. We usually know what to do. It's a question of what we will choose to do.
To explain, about three paragraphs ago (and in the previous blog), I referenced the fact that the back story helps to explain, but not excuse behavior. As the favored (in my opinion) creation, we have been made in God's image. Essentially, we have His DNA. I believe that means that we inherently know the difference between right and wrong.
For the broken people of the world (and that's all of us - my dad, me, you, etc), we can stay stuck - curled in a ball, wallowing in self-pity over the fact that life has been cruel and unkind, or we take an inventory of the situation and move. I firmly believe that everything we experience -positive and negative - serves a Kingdom purpose. I'm not discounting the really horrible, unfair, and undeserving things that people have experienced. That does suck. It is not fair. It should have never happened. But it did.
So what are you going to do about it?
All our lives, we just have a choice to make - am I going to spend my life in keeping myself on the pedestal of my heart - keeping my hurts, my feelings, and my misery the central focus on my life, or worse, using my energy to try to make everybody feel as miserable as me? If I'm not happy, than no one gets to be happy.
Or am I going to put Christ on the pedestal of my heart - recognizing His omniscience (the fact that He knows it all - what happened, why it happened, why He allowed it to happen, how I feel ), omnipotence (the fact that He is so powerful and mighty that He can and will use it all for His glory), justice (He gets the final say about the situation), and kindness (His love for me and His desires for my life far surpass anything I could dream up) as far greater than anything I will ever understand. John 14:6 -" [He] is the Way, the Truth, and the Life" - a life that will bring me peace and a holy, whole life.
I love my dad. He is a good, complicated man. He has had a tough life, but he (and my mom) were all-in parents in making sure that I was given a firm, faith foundation. My dad has spent a lifetime in wrestling with various demons, and as a result, he and those who were in the ring with him have battle scars. I spent a lot of time in trying to cover up those scars, running my fingers over them, and growing sullen at the memory of their acquisition. Fortunately, I wised up before it's too late. In the right moment, usually a Divinely-designed moment, a battle scar needs to be shared, if only to say to another, "I get it. Let me tell you how this scar has changed my life."
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| This is not a picture of me. I just want to make that clear. |
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