All people have triggers. You know what I’m saying? Those things that jog our memory to the past that kinda hit you out of the blue. Like the smell of rubber cement reminds some people of elementary school, or a song that reminds you of an old flame. Well, the other day one of my triggers went off on something so odd it caught me off guard and took me to a place that was a little raw.
I was watching something from PBS about some drawings that ancient people in South America drew in the sand thousands of years ago that are still there because the wind doesn’t blow very much at all, it was a picture of a spiral that was huge. Anyway, it jogged me back to my childhood where as a kid my sisters and couple of cousins would play Wizard of Oz. I lived in NJ in a house that was turned into a complex we lived in upstairs part and my cousin live in the bottom half of the complex. Behind our complex, was a hill at the bottom of the hill it was a parking lot for the Gatorade plant just across the way. As kids we would roll down the hill or play in the parking lot and play Wizard of Oz. We’d get a stick and draw the yellow brick spiral road and we would lock arms and sing….follow, follow, follow the yellow brink road, or sing the tune of the lollipop kids. LOL Then this thought, took me inside of the house that lead me to that raw place.
When the weather was good, my sisters and I never wanted to come in because when we would go back in we never knew what we would be walking into. Our dad was hmmm how do I put this , he was …. scary. You just never knew what exactly would set him off I guess the correct word would be explosive. But then again other times he could be very kind and almost happy to be around us but, not real often. So, my sisters and I took full advantage of our time outside because out there, we were never in the way plus it was so much fun to pretend to be in a place with no trouble just pure fun. The part we as kids hated the most was bedtime especially in the heat of summer. Our bedroom was the attic, back then there was no central heat/air. Our room was suffocatly HOT…we would beg to sleep downstairs or even beg just to have the attic door not to be closed so that some fresh air could make its way to us. The answer was always NO. When we cried that would bother daddy and set him off screaming at us and getting the belt or worse. I remember our mom talking to us the next morning, saying ”girls if you would be really quite you could lay at the bottom of the stairs and put your face at crack of the door so you can have at least some cool air.” We tried but one of us or all of us would fight with each other because someone was hogging the whole crack of the door. Which would turn the rest of our night-time into a nightmare.
So as an adult it has been a struggle for me to understand the love of God as a Father because we as people can only know what truth is by learning/experience. My experience was not tender, nor kindness or compassion. In my walk as a believer this has been one of the most difficult things to wrap my head around. I do trust God but to rely on Him as Father is something that seems impossible to grasp only God is going to be able to show me this truth so….I cried out to the Lord with these memories , “God show me what a father’s love looks like because I don’t understand. I read in your word about the endless love you have for us and I understand the sacrifice Jesus gave on our behalf. The depth of love you have given to us is boundless but I need to see something physical with my eyes I need to experience something only you can show me personallywhat a father’s love truly is.”