I received a phone call from my uncle this last Sunday saying that my dad was in the hospital. Not the best of news, especially since 1. I don't know him very well, and 2. he doesn't yet know God.
My parents were divorced when I was six years old. My mother is happily remarried and I love my stepdad, but I still always longed for things to be made right in my relationship with my biological father. It's like the story is unfinished, there has been no conclusion. I knew a little bit about him, but not like a son should. My brothers and I grew up seeing him every three or four years, maybe. He wasn't there, and it seemed that he just wasn't into the "raising kid's thing". So, we learned to live like that, and life moved on. Well, I knew that I harbored resentment and was still angry at him, but I guess I realized this week that I just don't have time to hold grudges. He is not the healthiest 56 year old. I may not have too many more years to get to know him.
My brothers and I were able to take some time off work to make a trip to see him (12 hours on the road!), and we had a good time together. Thankfully, he did show a genuine desire to know us. He is doing better, and what we thought was kidney failure, probably isn't. I didn't know him as a child, but that is all he knew me as. This trip to see him has begun a new relationship, one where he knows me as a man, and I pray, a man of God.