“But you… You hear, O LORD, the desire of the afflicted; you encourage them, and you listen to their cry, defending the fatherless and the oppressed, in order that man, who is of the earth, may terrify no more.”
I am seeking “The Father of Lights” (James 1:17).
I seek Daddy. Abba.
Now, perhaps, more than ever, as I am an orphan.
“I will not leave you as orphans; I will come to you.”
John 14:18
My mother died late last year.
So, grieving her, means grieving him.
And there is nothing like a day celebrating “Dad” to bring it all up, huh?
“…Thou art the helper of the fatherless.”
Psalm 10:14
Twenty-two Father’s Days ago, I spoke with my dad for the last time. I didn’t know then it would be that.
My dad was abusive. I did not have a loving, warm, father-daughter relationship with him. It was not for lack of trying on my part.
Never experiencing the unconditional love and approval of my dad, I learned I had to “earn” it.
Even though I never did.
Even though I was set up to never achieve earning it.
“All that the Father giveth me shall come to me; and him that cometh to me I will in no wise cast out.”
John 6:37
Years of focusing on pleasing, on being a “good girl,” on winning trophies, ribbons, scholarships and awards, on making Straight A’s, years of gradually, but thoroughly, developing eating disorders, plummeting to an emaciated two-digit weight only created a disinterested, criticizing, “not good enough” response.
“Under his roof,” throughout my childhood, I was at the mercy of an abuser.
Rages culminated with him hunting and chasing me from room to room, screaming at me, threatening who and what I loved, to destroy, all because his anger released such endorphins of pleasure in him.
He felt all-powerful.
Look at how he reigned; look at how he wielded his authority over a frightened child!
I managed to survive my childhood and become an adult. I was doing my best, dealing with my past in therapy.
Years ago, I was at a point in my life where I had become more connected with my faith. In fact, I was “inspired” by the Father’s Day Sunday church sermon that morning. I decided to call my dad and wish him Happy Father’s Day.
This was big.
I had not seen or spoken to him in years. My husband and I had relocated to the West Coast; my parents remained on the Minnesota farm. I thought there was now enough distance, emotionally and geographically, to safely make the call; and surely, enough time had passed.
I called my eighty- year- old dad.
My mother answered and was surprised to hear my voice. She gave the phone to him and, right away, I heard his irritation and confusion. I knew he had a series of mini strokes over the past ten years, for which he didn’t seek any medical attention. I also knew he had difficulty hearing.
And again, we hadn’t been in contact with one another for years.
I thought I was braced for the realistic possibilities.
Yeah, sure, braced.
“Happy Father’s Day!”
A few beats of awkward silence followed.
He growled, “Ain’t you doing anything?”
“When my father and my mother forsake me, then the LORD will take me up.”
Psalm 27:10
I shouldn’t have been surprised at the hostile question. There wasn’t any loving relationship.
What part of abusive, toxic, unhealthy communicator did I not remember in this person, known as my male parent?
I quickly repeated my greeting and hung up.
I didn’t cry. I was too stunned to cry.
Why did I expect anything other than this?
There was never going to be anything that I could do that would constitute “doing anything...”
Doing anything worthy, anyway.
I wasn’t sure what to do with this exchange.
I felt horrible and regretted making this phone call.
Life moved on. The next month, my dad had a large stroke, hospitalizing him.
By August, he was dead. I did not get to him before that happened.
And cue complicated grief and devastation. Oh, and processing up the wazoo.
I still think about his last words.
“Ain’t you doing anything?”
I guess I wasn’t doing anything, anything right, anyway. I was an unwanted daughter and an only child.
When he learned of my arrival on the planet, he was not passing out “It’s a girl!” cigars to his farmer buddies.
My dad stated he deserved more.
“A father of the fatherless...”
Psalm 68:5
Me, being this girl, was the insulting slap to his face.
Retaliation, of course, therefore, must be his response to me.
He took care of his financial obligations concerning me, but that was it. Don’t expect connection, love, approval.
Just don’t.
I’m the failure in his eyes.
And I’ve also been trying to undo my faulty belief I’m the failure in my eyes…
And Abba Father’s Eyes.
Fatherless. Father. Abba.
“The Spirit you received does not make you slaves, so that you live in fear again; rather, the Spirit you received brought about your adoption to sonship. And by him we cry, ‘Abba, Father.’”
Romans 8:15
Now, with the death of both of my parents, I am facing the daddy issues thing, all over again. But it goes beyond daddy issues. It cuts to fatherlessness, a level of orphan-ship that rips my heart.
Both parents are gone. Is this lost orphan experience merely grief, specifically, the fresh grief concerning my mother? Is it re-traumatization from my dad’s death two decades’ ago?
Is it a deeper matter of faith?
What is bearing witness, right now, after everything I have survived in my life?
“For there are three that bear record in heaven, the Father, the Word, and the Holy Ghost: and these three are one.”
1 John 5:7
Maybe what is going on right now is a fresher adoption process.
Understanding all things daddy and daddy issues, maybe through a different, newer adoption process, not only from “The Father of Lights,” but from the Son?
“…‘Have I been so long time with you, and yet hast thou not known me… he that hath seen me hath seen the Father; and how sayest thou then, ‘Show us the Father?’”
John 14:9
I have been walking, or stumbling, a faith walk for a long time.
Some of these “no-brainers,” therefore, should be fully understood, and walked by me already, right? It should all be mastered effectively, completely, already, right?
Am I a failure, a hopeless, damned soul for not having perfectly executed this line of faith thinking?
Well, I take my pain questions to the Adoption Agency, as I know it, right now in this orphan era of my life.
Abba. Daddy. Son.
All the Same?
Daddy issues? Yahshua issues?
Wanting to live that Spirit of Adoption.
How about you?
Abba,
In the Name of Yahshua, I come to you, filled with too many Daddy issues. Not just today, but every single day.
Please adopt me, “in Spirit and in Truth” (John 4:24), giving me Your Reality that You and Your Son are the same, adopting me, as is. Help me to love YOU, “in Spirit and in Truth.” You know I struggle with that.
Thank You, Abba. Daddy. Be that for me, from here on out. Happy Father’s Day!
In Yahshua’s Name, I pray,
Amen.
“My Father, which gave them me, is greater than all; and no man is able to pluck them out of my Father's hand.”
John 10:29
Copyright © 2025 by Sheryle Cruse
