If a random person were to walk up to any one of my children (excluding the one who cannot speak yet) and ask them a question about attitude, I’d be willing to bet my life that their response would be something along the lines of “it is a choice.” If I have taught my kids anything, it is that attitude is a choice. I say it over… and over… and over.
Pointing that out because I made the wrong choice on Father’s Day this year. I already have a complex about it being my husband’s first Father’s Day. It wasn’t his first. He has been a father to my three children for 8 years now, but this was his first Father’s Day where one of the children was actually made by him. I didn’t want to accentuate that in fear of hurting our other children, yet I wanted to make it special too. Hence, complex.
This “day” had been set up for failure (in my mind) since August when I lost my dad. Isn’t it funny how we lose someone and look ahead to how horrible future holidays will be? I have literally been dreading Father’s Day for months.
I woke up like this.
Really. I woke up mad. I was mad that I actually went to a store to buy Father’s Day cards for my husband and couldn’t get through 34 seconds of reading without my heart breaking even more and so I walked out of the store empty handed. I was mad that Father’s Day had finally come and I didn’t have my dad to call. I was mad that I had to see everyone posting happy, smiling pictures and sentiments with and of their fathers on Facebook that I could hardly bear to scroll through it at all that day. I was mad that I woke up in pain and I didn’t choose to be kind that day. I was mad, and so I started a fight on the way to church. I then, jabbed at my husband for parking too far from the baby room at church. I stood during worship with my hands in my pockets and didn’t utter a single word. I stormed to the truck after church and immediately to bed when we got home. I woke up mad again. I went to the grocery store with my husband and started a fight with him there, right in the middle of an aisle. I chose to do something else as he cooked dinner… on Father’s Day. Way to go, Linds! I was absent in every sense of the word. I blamed him to lighten my load of anger. I was a jerk ALL DAY to the man that goes above and beyond to be sweet and kind to me every day, but especially on Mother’s Day. He makes sure that I know I am appreciated on that special day and here I was hurting him so that I was not alone in pain that day. He did not deserve that at all. I am a jerk.
After an entire day of lashing out at everyone in my path, I stood in the shower, praying and crying. I am the type of person to explode and then come back after I cool off and apologize. I will tell you down to the detail how wrong I was and my apology will be sincere. I learned the hard way that apologies are a necessary means for healthy communication.
As I walked from my room to the kitchen, he was sitting at the table with his Bible. As soon as I started to speak, his eyes filled with tears and he told me that I really hurt his feelings all day. He didn’t have to say it, but he expected more… something, anything from me and I failed miserably. I did apologize to him, and I still feel extremely guilty for ruining Father’s Day. He accepted and told me it was okay, but it wasn’t. He won’t forget this day, and I won’t either.
After amends, Kelly called all of us to the table and asked us to bring our Bibles. He had prepared a Bible study and challenge for the five of us and I fell in love with him all over again, right then and there. Father’s Day was saved by him and by Him. I made cookies and the kids played cards with him until after midnight. There were smiles and tears, laughter and prayer. He hit it out of the park that night.
I wrote this down so that I would never forget how much I appreciate your resilience. I promise to do better next year. Thank you for being such a great husband and father. It does not go unnoticed.