A Tale of Two Dads

Article Excerpt: God tucks away truths about love in memories from our childhood. The revelation of these truths transforms us from victim to visionary.

I was a month shy of seven and learning to ride a two-wheeler on the street where Uncle James lived. I vividly remember thinking, “I should already be riding a two-wheeler,” because all my friends were. I had been begging my dad to teach me for months.

I think this day was actually my uncle’s idea. He was there with his daughter and I was there with my dad. Peggy and I were best friends as well as cousins back then and Uncle James was more of a dad to me than my own dad. Taylor Street was flat and we lived on a hill so it made sense to learn here. I was six months older than Peggy, a year older in school and a head taller.

As clearly as if it were just yesterday, I recall secretly wishing that Uncle James were my dad. And there were many days that this secret wish haunted me. Uncle James was a cool dad. He did things with his kids. You could tell that he really enjoyed them. He even enjoyed me. I could just feel it in my heart.

Peggy was mastering the whole bike thing, but I was struggling. My bike was too big for me. My parents had bought me one that I would grow into, but that didn’t help me at all with my learning. Peggy’s bike was just her size, just what she needed.

After another failed attempt at riding, disgusted with my dad and fuming at God, I silently demanded of Him, “Why me? What did I do to deserve this dad?” It felt as though my dad was always wishing I’d hurry and grow up already, as the bigger bike implied. I wasn’t having fun or feeling enjoyed, but Dad put on a good show that day on Taylor Street just like he always did.

There were many lessons brought forth by these two contrasting dads, but the one that stands out for me here is the contrast between authentic love and synthetic love. Authentic love is like a beam of light that comes from within and radiates outward, warming the hearts of those in its path. There is no warmth that accompanies doing a fatherly duty to uphold a fatherly image because it is a pursuit to be in the spotlight rather than the source of the beam. That is synthetic love—it may look like love but it doesn’t feel like love.

So in reality, God had gifted me with a great truth. I just didn’t have the maturity to understand it at the time, so it was ingeniously sandwiched into a memory that could serve me later. I guess I owe God an apology.

By Trish Whynot