I was minding my own business cutting carrots when it happened. The knife slipped.
“Um, I just cut the tip of my finger. Off.” I said quietly, more to myself than to anyone in particular. No one seemed to notice. I took my bleeding finger off to the bathroom to clean it up.
What I hadn’t noticed was my Dad get up and follow me in. He surprised me in the bathroom doorway and then came in, grabbed my finger and ran it under the faucet.
“Ouch!” I yelled! It hadn’t hurt, until now.
“We’ve got to get this clean so we can look at it. Sorry babe.” was all Dad had to say about it. He was going to rinse my finger off, whether or not I fought him. I chose to let him do his handy work. He cleaned and dressed my finger carefully and lovingly.
Since I had only cut the tip of my pinky finger, it didn’t require a trip to the ER. It healed just fine but left me with a nice little scar. A scar that still reminds me of my loving and gentle Daddy. The Daddy who tended to my owies or made my friends and I bark like dogs, so that I could spend the night at their house.
Things changed shortly after I cut my finger (though really they had been changing for a long time if I let myself admit it). He left our family due to his alcoholism and abuse. The Daddy I had once known and loved was gone.
I grew up and got married. Many nights were spent crying my eyes out in my husband’s arms, wishing for my Daddy. Grieving over the loss of a broken relationship.
One night I cried out, “God, I need a Daddy!”
I heard the whisper in my soul, “Darlin’, you have a daddy. I am your Daddy. I am THE Daddy.”
Oh, how could I have missed that? All along I had the Daddy of all Daddies right there. He had always been there.
He didn’t miss walking me down the aisle. He didn’t miss my children’s births. He didn’t miss a thing. When I needed the comfort only a father can bring, He was right there with open arms. Ready and waiting for me to ask Him for the comfort I so desperately needed.
The scar on my finger is a constant reminder of the love my earthly Daddy had for me, no matter how broken the relationship may have become. As much as the scars on Christ’s hands remind me of just how much He loves each and everyone of us. How, when we are broken, He is near. Ready to embrace us and comfort our distressed hearts. If only we would simply ask.
Then Jesus said, “Come to me, all of you who are weary and carry heavy burdens, and I will give you rest.”
PS. This story isn’t finished. God would later work a miracle in my Daddy’s life, that would forever change us both. You can read more of this story at: Redemption of Hearts