#fatherleft

[hopewritesletters]

I carry a cross not a name

I carry the name of a man I do not know, whose blood runs through my veins, whose features I display, and yet I do not know him. I represent a family that I have never met, and the closest thing I have to a formal greeting are letters from twenty years ago, and short non tangible emails alongside faded photographs. I've carried this name my entire life hoping its tie would be a strong enough to link me to the family I am related to, and holds answers to the hidden questions I have kept by my bedside table year after year. I've carried this name only to be told I shame it. Who I am, apparently disgraces it. 

"Please get married soon, and when you do marry a Gonzales, Sánchez, or Gutierrez. Please take my family's last name off of your miserable existence!"

This family I've longed to meet, was never mine to begin with, and the one I've had never wanted me there in the first place. Even though at a young age I knew this, I learned to deny it, but now, I’ve been gently forced to accept it.  So I’ve been left at a fork in the road knowing either direction is not an option to walk on, and have helplessly wondered in circles searching for at least an abandoned trail to put a foot on, only to fall on the ground and blindly stare up at defeat. I’m left with the decision of just to lie here and yearn to walk on paths that are prohibited, while watching several more sunsets and sunrises occur or to take a step into the thorns in front of me and watch a path I yet cannot see unveil before me. In doing so, I realize I've already been here, and have been pricked and scratched but that as something old dies within me, newborn life is revitalized within me. With each step I take in faith a way is made and it is more vibrant and refreshing than the time before as it is constantly being filled with blossoming roses that were once dead.

It is here; in this wild trail that I am finding my name, my family, who I really am, because it is being made just for me, and it is not anyone else’s to walk on.  It is here away from all the distractions of the deceivingly peaceful paths that He tells me, it is not his or her or their blood that runs through your veins, it is mine! My earthly “father’s” flesh speaks death to me, but my Father’s Spirit pours created life into me, a life that I can give away to those who need it more than me, and know with full confidence that it will never run out no matter how much I give away.

As for my family, we may not have the same eyes or grandparents, or reminisce about childhood mischief, but His blood that runs through us, is so much thicker than what unites even the most similar identical twins. It has bonded us for eternity, its what allows us to tend to one another's wounds, and clear the thorns for one another. They are not just friends; they are family: brother and sisters, fathers and mothers, to a higher degree.

My surname is there for the sake of having a surname; it is not a definition of where I come from or to where I'm headed. It has been difficult to know I can’t have pride in it, and accept that it is a burden I have to abandon and know it is not a tie to anyone. Amidst the pain it brought, it led me to fascinating skies that have revealed whom I can run to. Jesus never was the type to follow typical family trends anyways, and so it seems I can take pleasure in knowing I have been guided to do the same. I may write a name that has nothing to do with me in all senses, but I have the gift of carrying a cross, not a name, that defines my spirit.  No, one day if I marry, his name will not define me either, I will be honored to represent it, and will be thankful for it, but my identity will not rely on it. More so, I hope that when people’s mouths say the so and so’s, they will instantly think of the love of Christ our family shares, and that their family is a part of ours and we are a part of theirs, working differently but together for the kingdom. Something I can do now, even while being single, being that my first name does mean blessing, and it is the only thing I can hope to bring others, a blessing.

  Let not the foreigner who has joined himself to the LORD say,    "The LORD will surely separate me from his people"; and let not the eunuch say,    "Behold, I am a dry tree." For thus says the LORD:"To the eunuchs who keep my Sabbaths,    who choose the things that please me    and hold fast my covenant, I will give in my house and within my walls    a monument and a name    better than sons and daughters; I will give them an everlasting name    that shall not be cut off.

Isaiah 56:3-5

    And it shall be said, "Build up, build up, prepare the way,    remove every obstruction from my people’s way." For thus says the One who is high and lifted up,    who inhabits eternity, whose name is Holy: "I dwell in the high and holy place,    and also with him who is of a contrite and lowly spirit, to revive the spirit of the lowly,    and to revive the heart of the contrite.

Isaiah 57:14-15

[hopewritesletters]

Our Blue Eyes

I should have more than this

more than one faded memory of you

But I suppose it's better than none

You wore your brown boots

I wore my pretty red dress

She said to wave goodbye

in her best black dress

as you knelt down to attest

that you wouldn't be gone for long

for eighteen long years

That was the last time our blue eyes met

Will they ever see each other again?

For the next time, it won't be the same

For I have grown and changed

Instead, you will gaze into green eyes

green eyes with a tinge of you

You may remember the skies in mine

but I remember the drought in hers

and in the reflected stare I see

I can no longer remember yours

for my once blue eyes 

Have faded into dawn's past

colored with tears of your absence

So I will wear my pretty white dress

and dance unseen by the hurt blue eyes

I feel that I have never met

[hopewritesletters]

Held Tears

I couldn't tell you why at that moment I became overwhelmed with the absence of my father in my life, how every trickled tear represented a memory I never had and longed for in the depth of my heart, yet for the sake of functioning normally were pushed down into a deep crevice. How I couldn't believe he seemed as real to me as any fiction character yet he's very much flesh and bone with a story of his own . Those two thoughts just kept colliding in my head and my mind struggled with the fact that he is indeed a real person, and not just an imaginary character who said goodbye to me for the last time in an airport 18 years ago, no he wasn't constructed in mind, he is real, but not to me he isn't, at least not now, not anymore. For every moment that he was supposed to delight in me there's a blank frame taking its place with no remembrance inside it. The wall of memories of standing on his feet and dancing around the living room, goodnight kisses, and arms wrapped around me filled with warmth of love to protect me from all the attacks of this world are empty, and forever will be. For at least in my childhood I learned that if I wanted to keep living everyday I couldn't yearn those things, but so great a deception to tell oneself those things are not needed and to carry a heavy desperate longing. And so that night, as the music played I sat there quietly listening to it and let my hair drape around my face so no one would see the tears washing over the buried yearnings I had tried to keep hidden from myself for so long, and so I had to confess and let go of everything gripped so tightly in my hands, I just want to be held. I don't desire anything more than to be held, and to have love wrapped around. To feel like I am worthy enough to protect, that I am fragile and need a shield. That I've wanted to find this in you, but I haven't been willing to journey far enough to find it you. Just.Hold.Me. Please, I beg, I cry, I ache to be held by You. So He did. He led me to a safe place to be vulnerable and honest, a place to be seen through with no fear of judgement. So through one of his sons, one of my brothers in Christ, he held me. He let the tears and more seep into his shirt without a worry of who was watching or passing by. I felt protected and cared for in the arms of strong love, for the first time in my life I let myself be held. It was worth the pain and time awaited. 

For a wall of empty frames can be filled with all the times he's let me dance in the still of night with no one for Him and lets his delight thicken the air and allows me to be enveloped in it. For all the moments he knows how to paint a sky with an I love you that will leave me breathless. With the nights His heart broke when I cringed with pain afflicted by others but carried me through into a moonlit night with a calm whisper of assurance that the pain would cease slowly but leave a mark of strength. And now, they can be filled with the still moments I decide to let everything go and allow myself to be vulnerable and to be held, simply held.