Two weeks and two days ago I saw my birthfather for the first time in fifteen years.Maybe that is shocking. If you didn't know, I grew up with my mom and dad - a dad who is by blood unrelated, but who raised me, loved me, and adopted me and is my dad nonetheless. Chris (my birthfather) was not a part of my life. I remember back when I was Angry, spending myself wondering why I wasn't good enough to have his love or attention... or just presence. Was it something that I did? Was it something about me? But questions unanswered, particularly the identity kind, leave the heart at risk. So for survival's sake, I buried the questions and the accompanying pain and never looked back. Ever. Because I knew that if I lingered in that place, I could be destroyed. Thank God for Harold, my dad who married my mom when I was 6 and gave me a place to rest my questioning, curious, unwittingly dangerous eyes. He saved me in a lot of ways.
I have been told I have a great smile and that it lights up a room. And on that Friday I found myself in country-town Florida staring at the same space brightening smile on a completely unfamiliar face. It struck me as mostly wrong. Like one of those riddles: which of these things does not belong? That smile... that smile does not go there. Truly, the thought of building a relationship with Chris and his family grates against me still. They are honest, kind, and loving people. But they have never been mine.
It is a process of tearing down to build back up; of cessation and re-creation. I believe there is goodness and healing to be had through this, but right now it is all so foreign and ill-fitting. The only way to do this thing with any kind of worth or truth, is to not just be there and put forth the time, but be there as me - open, wall-less, and raw. Oh, that is such a vulnerable and fragile state. It's the kind of being that you would only show the proven, and they are very unproven.
In my soul, I don't want to do the face value, "pleased to meet you, I'll eat your chicken and be on my way" kind of thing. But I know I could get away with it and it could pass as relationship and I could remain unexposed and "safe". But I am beginning to think maybe that isn't safe at all. Or at least it isn't free. And if I am going to be free, I have to be real and be me. I have to give up myself and trust that I will return intact. I don't know exactly what these relationships are supposed to look like, but I know that I have to risk me in this. I don't think I'll understand freedom until I risk me. Risk is tricky, heart palpitating, uncomfortable business. Praise Jesus for courage and strength to risk big. Even when risk just means facing my own smile in the mirror two weeks and two days later, breathing in, and being free to remain me.
