So
I lost my father. Daddy was all I ever called him. I missed him but didn’t. I
was glad to be gone, and wasn’t. Did my daddy still love me? Isn’t a family supposed to stay together? I’ve thought about those things for a long
time. But my story is really about how
God has been able to draw near and father one fatherless child. All along the way God sent many good and kind fathers to me...But I never knew until later that they were sent by Him. Here’s two early photos of me with both my dad
and my mom.
The
first man to
provide some fathering was my Uncle
Bert, who met us at the train station
with Aunt Hazel. Oh, the hugs were many that
day! Both Nancy and I remember the taxi they arranged to help transport us
to their house. It had seats that folded out from the car doors for little people (no seat belts back then)! The little seats were more fun
to play with than to sit in. We’ve never seen anything like that in any taxi
or car again.
Uncle
Bert and Aunt
Hazel loved us and were especially kind to
my mother who had been through so much. But they also talked to us and loved us. Uncle Bert especially liked to tease me, but also gave instruction when I needed it. I called him “Uncle Beer” because he loved beer and peanuts when he came home
from work. He thought the name quite funny so of course it stuck. For many years Uncle Beer cared for me as a father does. BUT we only
stayed with them for the summer. Our next house was very, very dark. It's the only one I can't draw.
PS: Before we moved, I had the first of dozens of surgeries -- a tonsillectomy. Memories? Ice cream and jello and a bit of throat pain! I remember feeling spoiled. I got to sleep in the big bed with Mama while recovering. And Aunt Hazel was there too.
PS: Before we moved, I had the first of dozens of surgeries -- a tonsillectomy. Memories? Ice cream and jello and a bit of throat pain! I remember feeling spoiled. I got to sleep in the big bed with Mama while recovering. And Aunt Hazel was there too.
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