Brave

Be careful what you wish for, fathers.

I don't know if my father actually ever prayed that I would be more like him, but the wish must have crossed his mind a few thousand times during my childhood. As a kid, I could not have been more different from my dad. It often seemed like we were speaking two different languages, on two different planets. He's a stock broker; I'm an English nerd. When he heard the name, "Fannie," he thought of Fannie Mae. I thought of Jane Austen's Fanny Price. He would play Monopoly to win. I would play Monopoly because I liked to imagine an endless backstory for the top hat and the Scotty dog. He was convinced I could catch a ball if he threw it to me. I was convinced (and was repeatedly proven correct) that such an endeavor would break at least one of my fingers.

Literally, on the Myers-Briggs personality matrix, the two of us are polar opposites: INFJ and ESTP. And for the first several decades of my life, it seemed that the only thing we had in common was our thick, wavy, brown hair (a rarity in my family of towheads).

This past weekend, the two of us (and my mom) attended the Empowered to Connect conference. Having spent a semester studying with Dr. Karyn Purvis, I knew the material backwards and forwards (though it's always good to hear again), but it was all new information for him. The very fact that he agreed to come was a miracle on the scale of mountain-to-mohammed. But I think it was a really uncomfortable couple of days for him.

For one thing, I think he thought he was there to learn how to parent in a completely different way. That would be overwhelming for anyone who has three grown (and rather spectacular) daughters. Especially because Karyn Purvis' approach is often opposite to the way we were raised. I wasn't actually wanting him to learn a new parenting style for himself--I just wanted him to learn the background and theory of why I'd be doing what I will be doing with my kiddos. I really just needed him to know enough so that he wouldn't yell out "why are you letting him get away with that?!" in the middle of a meltdown.

But mostly, I think he was stunned by the stories he heard of just how difficult it is to parent kids from "hard places." He hasn't had a lot of exposure to the stories of how rough life is for these kids, from everything to the impact of prenatal stress on their brain development to the often catastrophic behavioral strategies they have learned to survive. No parent ever wants to hear that his child might be in danger. I'm sure it is incredibly alarming to consider that your child might be in significant danger from the child she's chosen to parent. There were some dark stories told from that stage. And that must have scared him, at least a little bit.

But here's the thing. Yes, we are wildly different people, my dad and me. As I've grown, though, I've recognized a few similarities along the way. We both love parties. We love music. We love going out to restaurants. We love tasting wines and pairing them with foods. We love to take on new challenges. We love to laugh. We love to find a gift for someone that will light up their day. We'd take a mountain over an ocean any day. We thrive on the stress of deadlines and pioneer projects. We are fiercely loyal. We are rabidly protective of those we love, even if it isn't always obvious. And we are brave.

My father is tremendously brave. He is a decorated war veteran. He thrives in an industry that would eat most people alive. He is ever ready to fight for what he believes in.

And despite decades when he seemed as wholly different from me as two separate species would be, he raised a brave daughter. He raised a woman who looks forward to the challenges of what lies ahead-- who knows the future may hold wet beds, massive tantrums, and threats of harm or even death. And who keeps walking forward into that future.

I am not stepping into this journey of foster-adoption to make my father proud. My father is already proud of me, and I thank God daily that He brought us both to a place where he could say it and I could hear it. I step forward in obedience to God, to bring glory to His name, and to overflow the love He pours on me to those who most desperately need it.

But I wouldn't be able to do any of this if I had not been raised by a man who has made me brave. I don't know if he prayed, specifically, that I would be more like him. I wouldn't blame him if he had! But I do know that those prayers, spoken or not, have been answered. I am brave as my father is brave, and as my Father empowers me to be. I step out, into a war zone, passionately fighting for my beliefs, just as he did. And I am unendingly grateful that he is here, walking beside me, even if he doesn't fully understand why we're here or where we're going. I am brave as my father is brave. And may God continue to bless us with the courage and strength we will need for this fight.

Give ear, O my people, to my teaching;
incline your ears to the words of my mouth!
I will open my mouth in a parable;
I will utter dark sayings from of old,
things that we have heard and known,
that our fathers have told us.
We will not hide them from their children,
but tell to the coming generation
the glorious deeds of the Lord, and His might,
and the wonders that He has done.

He established a testimony in Jacob
and appointed a law in Israel,
which he commanded our fathers
to teach to their children,
that the next generation might know them,
the children yet unborn,
and arise and tell them to their children,
so that they should set their hope in God
and not forget the works of God,
but keep his commandments.
~Psalm 78:1-7