29 April 2017
Father Hearts and Father Wounds ~ Father Wounds Round One
Greetings Dear Reader,
When I wish to include music in my post I usually place it at the end. I wish this time to set the tone right away.
Tucson Arizona (Gazette) – Dan Fogelberg
Tucson, Arizona rising in the heat like a mirage
Tony keeps his Chevy like a virgin locked in his garage
He brings it out at midnight and cruises down the empty boulevards
And he prowls the darkened alleys that snake between the city's thirsty yards
The lonely desert skies reflect the anger in his eyes and it is dawn
His father died of drinking and left five children sinking with his mom
His older brother Bobby never made it back from Viet Nam
With high school well behind him he lives at home and works this shitty job
And he thinks his '60 Chevy is the only true amigo that he's got
His heart is filled with sadness and his soul is like some ugly vacant lot
Mary Estelle Hanna came out from Louisiana for the sun
A deal gone bad in Dallas left her burned and broke and on the run
To make the rent and groceries she takes this job at $3.15 an hour
Serving shots of whiskey and tequila in some smoky red-neck bar
And she dreams some day she'll make her way to L.A. and become a movie star
Tony saw her working, he swallowed hard and asked her for a date
Mary laughed and answered "I would but every night I'm working late"
He said he had some cocaine that she could have if she'd just ride along
She said "What the hell, I may as well, I haven't had no fun in so damn long"
He picked her up at closing time they pulled out on the road and they were gone
Tony's mom got frantic when she found her son had not come home
Mary's roommate panicked and called the sheriff from a public phone
They asked her lots of questions
She tried her best to tell them what she saw
And late that night they found poor Mary lying in some narrow, dusty draw
The coroner reported that she hadn't been deceased for very long
Two weeks on they found it buried to the windshield in the sand
There inside lay Tony with a small revolver in his hand
The papers simply stated it must have been the drugs that drove him mad
The neighbors speculated what could make a good boy go so bad
Well, it might have been the desert heat
It might have been the home he never had
When I hear of young men and their crimes I have two reactions. The first is to thank that Father that the wounds I have inflicted on my Sons through my failures have not put them in those places. The second is to pray that someone would come along to father the many fatherless young men in our world.
I had very poor father examples growing up and I still feel the damage from them every day. My progenitor treated me as thing to be neglected, damaged, and used. The next two men who would fill the “dad” role were distant and mean. The man whose name I carry did better than all three combined. By then, however, I was too damaged to gain much from him.
If not for the intervention of the Father and a man name Ray I would have been much like Tony in the song. I stood many times on the precipice of evil and madness desiring just to squelch the loneliness in my soul and anger in my heart. Even after I came to Christ it too many years to be free of the anger. I suspect the pain will remain all my life.
I believe more and more that a loving father can do so much that no one else can. Hearts harden so quickly now and the veneer is so difficult to crack once it sets. A friend of mine told me just last week that one of his children has chosen to reject the faith that sustains him. He too feels the guilt and pain of his failures as a father. We prayed together for our children.
The wounds inflicted by fathers can be healed. The wounded must be willing. Like my damaged shoulder that I have carried for forty years, the pain may always be there but there is life beyond it. All I want for my Children is for them to see how much the Father loves them and to love him in return. I am just learning how much this is core to all that there is.
Wishing you joy in the journey,
Mat 13:52 So Jesus said to them, "That is why every writer who has become a disciple of Christ’s rule of the universe is like a home owner. He liberally hands out new and old things from his great treasure store.”
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