Truth – Daddy's Home

“No! I want it the right way,” my then six-year-old daughter, Michelle, screamed. “How do babies get inside a mommy’s tummy? And don’t tell me anymore God stories.”

Now we all know God definitely plays a major role in the birth of any child, but my inquisitive daughter wanted the facts and only the facts.

“Honey,” I slowly began. “Remember how mommy always said if I didn’t have the answer I’d have to get back to you? Well, this is one of those times.”

For the next several hours I stewed, sweated, and researched how to impart the facts of life to a child who was still a baby herself.

“Give it to her simply,” a nursing friend instructed. “She’ll guide you with how much information she can absorb.”

That night, as I laid her down in her Barbie Doll sheets, I began, “Well, mommy has the egg and daddy has the seed…” Carefully I traversed the story of she came into this world just short of the implementation. All was going swimmingly (no pun intended) until she asked, “Mommy, so how does that seed get inside? Do you eat it?”

“Oh my God! Now what do I do?” I thought terrified. But God in all his wisdom somehow imparted me with the verbal tools to give the information her little mind could comprehend.

Throughout my life, I’ve never had any problems telling the truth – as long as it was my truth. That was easy mainly because I knew if I lied, I’d get caught and have to suffer the consequences. But when it came to telling someone else theirs, my tongue grew cotton.

Recently, I had to accompany my ninety-five-year-old father to the eye doctor. Macular Degeneration was playing havoc with his sight, but being the eternal optimist, he was sure he’d get better. After all, he’d been enduring horrific shots into the eye socket to keep the disease at bay, but the results were not what he was hoping for.

Because he’s nearly deaf, it was up to me to lean over his crippled body and relay the doctor’s words.

“Dad, I’m so sorry. You’re eyes are tired. Too much damage has been done and you’ll never see clearly again.”

“Never?” he asked tears misting in his once crystal blue eyes.

Holding back the emotion that was about to explode in my heart, I answered him honestly, “No dad. Never.”

Backing away, it nearly killed me to see the sadness in his face. This man is the closet thing to God I’ll ever know and he deserved to be treated much better by the Almighty in his final years. Rage filled my heart and I wanted to perform one of my petulant screaming tantrums, but knowing my father would want honesty, all I could do was give him the truth. There was no way to dance around this one and he deserved it.

Wheeling him out of the doctor’s office, both of us unable to speak, I could feel one of God’s indirect gifts being bestowed on this disheartening moment. The delicate silk thread that wove this father and daughter’s heart together was now lined in gold. Our relationship had always been based on love and trust. There never were, nor never be, any lies or secrets between us. This has always freed our souls to bond and in the end he knows I’ll be right by his side, truth in hand, to help him on his journey home.