I am my father's daughter
As I was driving Wednesday I checked my side and rearview mirrors and two things happened simultaneously. I realized 1) I needed to check my attitude and 2) I am my father's daugther.
When I am on the interstate and we are travelling 65, 70 mph or more, and you are behind me, I think I should be able to see more than half of your hood in my rearview mirror. When that is all that I can see, I get a bit of road rage. The adjustment I want to make is to your speed, facilitated by a brake check. I get that from my dad.
That led me to thinking about when I am stopped in a line of cars due to an accident, road work or at a stop light. On more than one occasion I have thought if "objects in the mirror are closer than they appear", I don't want to know how close you really are. I should not be able to count your nose hairs in my mirror. Not literally, but sheesh, sometimes it seems like that could happen. When you are that close, I want to get out of my car and educate you on "safe stopping distance" because if your foot slips off your brake, or the guy behind you rear ends you, we are going to be much closer. I am not interested in becoming your hood ornament. More road rage. I am my father's daughter.
It starts with my name. His name was Don Ellis. Not Donald. Don. Mine is Donnette. I share his mother's middle name. I was an Ellis until I married Bill. I thought I was my dad's favorite. His Princess. I revelled in being his daughter.
My dad was an auto mechanic. He took cars other's may not have seen value in and repaired them. I like to tinker, repair, reuse rather than immediately discard. The smell of a mechanic's garage is one of my favorite things because it reminds me of him. I am my father's daughter.
Sunday afternoons as a child were spent with my paternal grandmother or her parents. That is probably a contributing factor to my enjoyment of spending time with older people and listening to their stories.
Summer weekends were often spent with my dad's extended family picnicking at Turkeyfoot Lake State Park. I am always interested in a family picnic.
I remember being at Barberton Speedway when I was just a little girl. There was a guy either behind or in front of us, I cannot remember now, it's been too many years ago. What I do remember is his language was not very nice. I know that because what I vividly remember is my dad standing up, looking at the man and saying, "My wife and kids are here. Watch your language." He didn't say please. The guy shut up. I was my father's daughter, and I knew he would protect me. I trusted him. I am pretty mama bearish when someone messes with one of my cubs. I am my father's daughter.
I sometimes joke that sarcasm is my native language. Biting sarcasm makes an occasional appearance. That definitely comes from my dad. One comment of ten words from him when I was about 13 was all it took to convince me he didn't love me. I couldn't figure out what I had done to make him wish I had never been born. I desperately wanted to earn his love back, but knew there was no way I could. My self esteem bottomed out. So I quit trying.
My dad promised me a car when I got my driver license. That never happened. There were other promises broken. My trust in him disappeared. I felt like I was not my father's daugther any more. Truth be told, it came to a point where I didn't want to be my father's daugther anymore.
Fast forward a few years and many bad decisions later. I began going to church. I began to learn about God. When I heard He was my Heavenly Father I had mixed emotions. Was He the kind of father I'd enjoyed as a child? Someone who loved me, someone who thought I was special, someone who would stand up for me, protect me, shield me, provide for me? Or was he like the father I knew as a teenager. Someone who would turn on me, love me until I got to a certain age or did something that made him mad and then withdraw his love? Could I trust Him to keep His promises?
As I began to learn more about God, I chose to trust Him. I became His child. I carry the name Christian, a name that identifies me as His daughter. I have learned some things about being my Father's daughter.
I have learned I will never be good enough, I will never be smart enough, I will never be anything enough to earn His love. It is a gift. Freely given. Never to be withdrawn. I am my Father's daugther.
I have learned that what I say and how I say it matters. I learned to pray, "Lord set a guard over my mouth", allowing His Spirit to curb the sarcasm and other negative talk that used to flow freely. I am my Father's daugther.
I have learned to pray for the people in the path of unsafe drivers I encounter. And to call them unsafe drivers rather than a few other choice names. I am my Father's daugther.
Some people might say I have blind faith. I don't. I am my Father's daughter. The bits and pieces I know about my Father have taught me important things:
He is God, I am not.
I will never understand everything about Him, but honestly,
who wants a God small enough for us to figure out?
These are a few of the things I have figured out through life experiences:
He is Love.
He loves me.
He always will love me.
He is kind.
He is Good.
He is patient.
He is reliable.
He is trustworthy.
He is not easily angered.
He doesn't keep a record of what I do wrong.
He is my Provider.
He is my Protector.
He knows me completely.
He has never failed me.
He will never fail me.
He is a promise keeper.
He gave this dead girl life. Real life.
I am my father's daughter,
but more importantly,
I am my Father's daughter.
What I have isn't blind faith in God, it is complete trust in Him.
"So then, brothers, we are debtors, not to the flesh, to live according to the flesh. For if you live according to the flesh you will die, but if by the Spirit you put to death the deeds of the body, you will live. For all who are led by the Spirit of God are sons of God. For you did not receive the spirit of slavery to fall back into fear, but you have received the Spirit of adoption as sons, by whom we cry, “Abba! Father!” The Spirit himself bears witness with our spirit that we are children of God, and if children, then heirs—heirs of God and fellow heirs with Christ, provided we suffer with Him in order that we may also be glorified with Him.
When I am on the interstate and we are travelling 65, 70 mph or more, and you are behind me, I think I should be able to see more than half of your hood in my rearview mirror. When that is all that I can see, I get a bit of road rage. The adjustment I want to make is to your speed, facilitated by a brake check. I get that from my dad.
That led me to thinking about when I am stopped in a line of cars due to an accident, road work or at a stop light. On more than one occasion I have thought if "objects in the mirror are closer than they appear", I don't want to know how close you really are. I should not be able to count your nose hairs in my mirror. Not literally, but sheesh, sometimes it seems like that could happen. When you are that close, I want to get out of my car and educate you on "safe stopping distance" because if your foot slips off your brake, or the guy behind you rear ends you, we are going to be much closer. I am not interested in becoming your hood ornament. More road rage. I am my father's daughter.
It starts with my name. His name was Don Ellis. Not Donald. Don. Mine is Donnette. I share his mother's middle name. I was an Ellis until I married Bill. I thought I was my dad's favorite. His Princess. I revelled in being his daughter.
Sunday afternoons as a child were spent with my paternal grandmother or her parents. That is probably a contributing factor to my enjoyment of spending time with older people and listening to their stories.
Summer weekends were often spent with my dad's extended family picnicking at Turkeyfoot Lake State Park. I am always interested in a family picnic.
I remember being at Barberton Speedway when I was just a little girl. There was a guy either behind or in front of us, I cannot remember now, it's been too many years ago. What I do remember is his language was not very nice. I know that because what I vividly remember is my dad standing up, looking at the man and saying, "My wife and kids are here. Watch your language." He didn't say please. The guy shut up. I was my father's daughter, and I knew he would protect me. I trusted him. I am pretty mama bearish when someone messes with one of my cubs. I am my father's daughter.
I sometimes joke that sarcasm is my native language. Biting sarcasm makes an occasional appearance. That definitely comes from my dad. One comment of ten words from him when I was about 13 was all it took to convince me he didn't love me. I couldn't figure out what I had done to make him wish I had never been born. I desperately wanted to earn his love back, but knew there was no way I could. My self esteem bottomed out. So I quit trying.
My dad promised me a car when I got my driver license. That never happened. There were other promises broken. My trust in him disappeared. I felt like I was not my father's daugther any more. Truth be told, it came to a point where I didn't want to be my father's daugther anymore.
Fast forward a few years and many bad decisions later. I began going to church. I began to learn about God. When I heard He was my Heavenly Father I had mixed emotions. Was He the kind of father I'd enjoyed as a child? Someone who loved me, someone who thought I was special, someone who would stand up for me, protect me, shield me, provide for me? Or was he like the father I knew as a teenager. Someone who would turn on me, love me until I got to a certain age or did something that made him mad and then withdraw his love? Could I trust Him to keep His promises?
As I began to learn more about God, I chose to trust Him. I became His child. I carry the name Christian, a name that identifies me as His daughter. I have learned some things about being my Father's daughter.
I have learned I will never be good enough, I will never be smart enough, I will never be anything enough to earn His love. It is a gift. Freely given. Never to be withdrawn. I am my Father's daugther.
I have learned that what I say and how I say it matters. I learned to pray, "Lord set a guard over my mouth", allowing His Spirit to curb the sarcasm and other negative talk that used to flow freely. I am my Father's daugther.
I have learned to pray for the people in the path of unsafe drivers I encounter. And to call them unsafe drivers rather than a few other choice names. I am my Father's daugther.
Some people might say I have blind faith. I don't. I am my Father's daughter. The bits and pieces I know about my Father have taught me important things:
He is God, I am not.
I will never understand everything about Him, but honestly,
who wants a God small enough for us to figure out?
These are a few of the things I have figured out through life experiences:
He is Love.
He loves me.
He always will love me.
He is kind.
He is Good.
He is patient.
He is reliable.
He is trustworthy.
He is not easily angered.
He doesn't keep a record of what I do wrong.
He is my Provider.
He is my Protector.
He knows me completely.
He has never failed me.
He will never fail me.
He is a promise keeper.
He gave this dead girl life. Real life.
I am my father's daughter,
but more importantly,
I am my Father's daughter.
What I have isn't blind faith in God, it is complete trust in Him.
"So then, brothers, we are debtors, not to the flesh, to live according to the flesh. For if you live according to the flesh you will die, but if by the Spirit you put to death the deeds of the body, you will live. For all who are led by the Spirit of God are sons of God. For you did not receive the spirit of slavery to fall back into fear, but you have received the Spirit of adoption as sons, by whom we cry, “Abba! Father!” The Spirit himself bears witness with our spirit that we are children of God, and if children, then heirs—heirs of God and fellow heirs with Christ, provided we suffer with Him in order that we may also be glorified with Him.
... If God is for us, who can be against us? He who did not spare his own Son but gave Him up for us all, how will He not also with Him graciously give us all things? Who shall bring any charge against God's elect? It is God who justifies. Who is to condemn? Christ Jesus is the one who died—more than that, who was raised—who is at the right hand of God, who indeed is interceding for us. Who shall separate us from the love of Christ? Shall tribulation, or distress, or persecution, or famine, or nakedness, or danger, or sword? As it is written, No, in all these things we are more than conquerors through Him who loved us. For I am sure that neither death nor life, nor angels nor rulers, nor things present nor things to come, nor powers, nor height nor depth, nor anything else in all creation, will be able to separate us from the love of God in Christ Jesus our Lord."
excerpts from Romans 8
WOW ... Thank you Donnette, I so needed to read this. You know the struggles I've had understanding my dad and I've just recently been leaning on my Father again. Thank you for the blogs you post, I love you cousin!������
ReplyDeletelove you too <3
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