When I was a teenager, I had the habit of referring to my parents as my biological parents because I lived with another family. After I married and moved away, I began referring to the family I had lived with as my foster family, so others would know which family I was talking about. This wasn’t as complicated as it sounds.
During a college biology class a year or two before I got married, I had a lesson I’ll never forget. The professor was giving examples in human genetics. When she explained that it is almost impossible for parents with light blue eyes to have a child with dark brown eyes, I thought to myself, “Hmmmmmm. Very interesting.” I think I took the news rather calmly.
My dad and I have always had a good relationship. I understand him better now than I did when I was a kid, but I think that is typical. He has struggled most of his life with depression and alcoholism. My parents fought a lot and were divorced when I was thirteen. Despite our family trials, my dad tried to instill within me a love for myself and my sisters. He often told us that most of our friends would not be around when we were grown, but our sisters would be in our lives forever; so we needed to be good to each other. He gave me a bracelet with a charm on it. My name was engraved on one side, and on the other side were the letters, “RYW.” He asked me not to tell anyone what the letters stood for, so it could be our special secret. Because I am writing anonymously, I will divulge the meaning: “Remember Your Worth.” I know a lot of kids had moms who would say, “Remember who you are!” But my dad had a way of making things meaningful.
I’m not sure if it was seconds or minutes before I decided that what I had learned in my class didn’t matter. My curiosity was not as great as my love, so I decided to let it go. Eventually, the conversation came up in my family. When I talked to my dad about it, I just told him I was thankful he was my dad. Then he retold the story of the moment he first saw me, and again described the love he felt as he looked into my dark newborn eyes. He said he didn't want me to ever know that I wasn't "his." He said, "I was afraid if you knew, you wouldn't love me no more." That was endearing; I had never heard my dad use a double negative before. It was then I realized that my new knowledge actually made me love him more.
After I was born, my dad knew that I wasn’t his biological child, yet he loved me as if I was. There were two men presented with the idea that they might be fathers. One responded by offering to pay for an abortion; the other asked my mom to marry him. Is my biological dad the man who did his part by taking money out of his pocket (money to end my life)? Maybe to some, but not to me.
During a college biology class a year or two before I got married, I had a lesson I’ll never forget. The professor was giving examples in human genetics. When she explained that it is almost impossible for parents with light blue eyes to have a child with dark brown eyes, I thought to myself, “Hmmmmmm. Very interesting.” I think I took the news rather calmly.
My dad and I have always had a good relationship. I understand him better now than I did when I was a kid, but I think that is typical. He has struggled most of his life with depression and alcoholism. My parents fought a lot and were divorced when I was thirteen. Despite our family trials, my dad tried to instill within me a love for myself and my sisters. He often told us that most of our friends would not be around when we were grown, but our sisters would be in our lives forever; so we needed to be good to each other. He gave me a bracelet with a charm on it. My name was engraved on one side, and on the other side were the letters, “RYW.” He asked me not to tell anyone what the letters stood for, so it could be our special secret. Because I am writing anonymously, I will divulge the meaning: “Remember Your Worth.” I know a lot of kids had moms who would say, “Remember who you are!” But my dad had a way of making things meaningful.
I’m not sure if it was seconds or minutes before I decided that what I had learned in my class didn’t matter. My curiosity was not as great as my love, so I decided to let it go. Eventually, the conversation came up in my family. When I talked to my dad about it, I just told him I was thankful he was my dad. Then he retold the story of the moment he first saw me, and again described the love he felt as he looked into my dark newborn eyes. He said he didn't want me to ever know that I wasn't "his." He said, "I was afraid if you knew, you wouldn't love me no more." That was endearing; I had never heard my dad use a double negative before. It was then I realized that my new knowledge actually made me love him more.
After I was born, my dad knew that I wasn’t his biological child, yet he loved me as if I was. There were two men presented with the idea that they might be fathers. One responded by offering to pay for an abortion; the other asked my mom to marry him. Is my biological dad the man who did his part by taking money out of his pocket (money to end my life)? Maybe to some, but not to me.
2 comments:
Because I am transplanting this blog from somewhere else, I wanted to include a comment from my sweet friend, Tami:
"This is phenomenal. It has helped me understand you, to see you in a different light…and to know how to pray for you and thank God for all the answered prayers he has already blessed you with. I may not ‘know’ you, but I am still so proud of you.
You have a wonderful Dad, biological or not. You know exactly who your Dad is and isn’t. :)"
What an amazing man! Thankyou for giving me this opportunity to get to know you better! I'm so glad that the Lord blessed you to have such a good father Scientifically biological or not. Love the bracelet thing you had. Super cool.
Lyn
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