6/24/2014

Fatherless Pt. 3

Written by: Maricela Martinez
The word “fatherless” brings to mind a very dark season in my life. As a little girl you grow up watching fairytale movies and seeing how the male figure protects, loves, embraces and cherishes their little princess. In my case, my childhood wasn't a fairy tale and my father didn’t love, embrace or show any type of emotion towards me. As I grew, so did my resentment towards my dad. I didn't understand why he couldn’t tell me he “loved me.” I envied my friends that had a dad that showed affection towards them. Honestly, I also even envied the ones that didn’t have a dad. Why? I felt fatherless having my dad across the table from me. I couldn't understand how a parent could be incapable of sharing a simple smile, word of encouragement, but most of all, a simple “I love you!”
As a young lady, I searched for love in the wrong places, and even when I was told an “I love you,” I couldn't accept it. I was incapable of accepting love by others because in my mind and heart I couldn't understand how a stranger could love me and not the man that gave life to me. Consequently, this led me to enter a deep depression and developed an eating disorder.
However, my life took a turn for the better. On a Wednesday evening, a little over eleven years ago, I stepped into an Apostolic church not expecting much. But as soon as I entered those doors I felt at home. All those times I ran away and bottled up my emotions finally came to an end when my Heavenly Father embraced me for the first time. All the protection, love, encouragement, and those three words that I had been yearning to hear from my biological father, my Heavenly Father told me in minutes. Opening and reading His word is what brings comfort to my heart. Christ makes me feel secured, but most of all, His unconditional love fills my empty heart. His embrace is warm, tender, indescribable and incomparable.

6/17/2014

Fatherless Pt. 2:

Written by: Cathy Melgar
Growing up I had to face the hardship of having an alcoholic as my dad. He was always there, and yet, it was as if he was never there. I remembered feeling like he always chose his alcohol over our family. On his days off from work, when he finally had the opportunity to spend time with us, he spent his day drinking away. In fact, my home was filled with the smell of his beer and the sorrow of the rest of us dwelling in it.

Honestly, his addiction to alcohol made me feel as if I was second place in his life. It was at its worst when I was in middle school and in my early years of high school. When I needed a father to validate me and to demonstrate how much I was worth, to tell me how beautiful I was (just that affirmation a teenage girl desires to hear from her father), I never got that. No matter what I did to try to get his attention, good or bad, it was never enough to get my dad's hand off the beer can.

And then something happened, I came to God, or better said, He came to me. Although, my dad had his share of mistakes, Christ helped me to let go of my pain, resentment, anger and hurt. He helped me to look beyond my father's faults and cover them with a mantle of love. He also gave me the affirmation I desperately sought for through what He did for me on the Cross. He came, He died, He rose, and He did this all for me—all of it. I am worth every drop of blood that was shed on that cross, because He loved me. I belong to Him, and I am His daughter. I have received His Spirit of adoption and now I'm able to cry out Abba Father. But wait, He didn't do this just for me, He did this incredible act of love for everyone. So, find embrace in the arms of the perfect Father, Christ, and you shall never be fatherless!

6/10/2014

Fatherless Pt. 1:

Written by: Abraham Aguirre
When I hear the word “father” my memory races two years back into my past. It was in 2012 that my father acted on the plans that where boiling inside of him for years. Let me share, it is so commonplace to hear about a rebellious teenager running away from his or her parent’s home. However, in my home, “in a blink of an eye,” what is commonly assumed in our culture took a one-eighty-turn in my family. Sadly, my father moved out of our home leaving my brother, mother, and myself behind. The first year of his absence was a season of confusion, sorrow, and anger for my family and me. I felt like I was thrown into a pool, learning how to swim for the first time. There I was flapping and screaming in life's pool of troubles, I felt like giving up and drowning.

Unfortunately, I had to take on my father’s role and it was a difficult task. I can recall moments of financial struggle, fear, and a mountain of stress. How would I make it? How will I make ends meet? Were just a minuscule of the thoughts that would flood my mind. I would work hard for rent, food, and our basic necessities. I remember having to deal with overwhelming emotions. For instance, there were moments at work where I had to rush to a restroom to simply weep. In this process of becoming the man of my house, I longed within for my father’s guidance and wisdom. I yearned for his affirmation and simply to make him proud, but abandonment and silence is all I received.

Although, it has been a rough journey, this season of being fatherless was a good learning process. I didn’t have anyone to look up to as the man of my house. But there was God—my last resort. I received love, affirmation, praise, and guidance from Him, He became the father I never knew.