Several years ago, maybe in 2014 or 2015, my school held an end of the year talent show. As the music teacher, I’d helped some of the kids write and perform skits, listened to their songs, gave them little tips and pointers, and generally made myself available as needed. Of course, I’m only one person, so I hadn’t heard all of the performances. At one point during the show, one of my 3rd grade students walked up to the mic and began singing the song “Watching You” by Rodney Atkins. I hadn’t heard him sing it before and the words washed over me:
“I’ve been watching you, Dad, ain’t that cool?
I’m your buckaroo I wanna be like you
And eat all my food and grow as tall as you are!
I wanna do everything you do,
So I’ve been watching you.”
It was just a simple, sweet little country song, but suddenly I couldn’t breathe. The air disappeared around me, my chest felt compressed, and I began to have a panic attack so severe that I needed to leave the room, something that has only happened maybe a handful of times in my life. I got to my classroom and I sobbed like a child. One of my colleagues came in to check on me and I remember feeling so stupid. When I put words to my emotions, what came out was this: my son, (only a toddler at the time) the light of my life, this beautiful and incredible little human, would never have the father/son relationship that he so deserved. He had my dad, sure, and my dad is a fantastic role model and amazing grandfather, but he would never have his own DAD, a man to emulate, to look up to, to admire and cherish and who would admire and cherish him in return. That hole that I had ultimately created, unfillable and vast, seemed to swallow me up in that moment. My colleague, in an attempt to bring me back to reality, reassured me that we had a whole lot of life left to live and that there’s always hope. I wasn’t convinced.
Then last November, my little guy asked, for the million and tenth time, “Mom, when am I going to get a Dad?” It wasn’t as though I hadn’t tried, but I was tired of getting my heart broken looking for someone I wasn’t sure existed. Most men I’d encountered in my search, whether online or through well-meaning friends, were either looking for a quick hook-up or an immediate life partner, with not much variation in between. However, at my little buddy’s request I made a last-ditch effort and signed up for eHarmony with all the wide-eyed, excitement and vigor of a banana slug. If this half-hearted, final roll of the dice didn’t yield a favorable result, I’d relegate myself to being an old maid and happily accept my fate. But then, to my eternal surprise and unending gratitude, in the first profile I clicked on, I found someone extraordinary. It's one year later, and I'm getting a text with a picture of my son, sitting in the cafeteria at his school at an event called “Donuts with Dads”, with the biggest smile in the room and the man I cannot wait to marry sitting by his side.
I guess it’s true that God answers prayers in big ways and yet, I still often doubt whether I'm really worthy of it. In fact, I am certain that I don't deserve His incredible generosity in blessing my family beyond our wildest dreams. Which is maybe the point. After all, it took a long time, and a lot of faith and perseverance, before my prayers were answered; and to be honest, it was not faith or perseverance on my part, but on the part of my son, who never stopped believing that God would give him the Dad (and family) that he so desperately wanted. As an adult, I doubted. I hardened my scarred-up, broken down heart, watering down the vision God had for my family, and hedging my expectations to keep myself from being let down. But through the faith of a child, God filled the father-sized hole in our lives with exactly what we needed, which was more than I could’ve ever allowed myself to hope for. I suppose the moral is that even when it feels impossible, hope ought to spring eternal; not because we are faithful or deserving, but because God is. That even when we are ready to settle for the ordinary, our wonderful God has miracles in mind, if we're only bold enough and persistent enough to ask Him.
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