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Dancing Father Hug

May 24, 2012 1 comment

I don’t think for a moment that I have it all together as a father. As is the case with every guy, I am figuring it out as I go and sometimes that is not a good thing. I make mistakes on a weekly basis and as a result my daughter inevitably carries with her frustrations, pains, and wounds of different kinds, each with it’s own cause.

My church has helped me see that there is hope for dads like me who have so much love in their heart for their children but are painfully aware of the times they fail to live up to the enormity of the call.
For years they have made freedom ministry for adults a key point of focus and are now starting to invite kids of different ages to participate. This post however is not about that. It is about how we as dads can participate in helping our kids experience a certain level of freedom through our interactions with them. I want to illustrate my point by relating a personal story that happened a few months ago.

Every year Gateway Church puts on a Father/Daughter dinner and dance. It is an even that my daughter looks forward to all year. We take a few dance lessons leading up to that night. She picks out a new dress, I wear my suit and we get to spend the night with 100+ other dad’s and their girls. Dinner is always great. I get some kind of beef. Megan gets chicken strips and fries which are sometimes better than the beef, so I sneak a bite or two.

Megan loves music and dancing. Every year before we walk in she makes a point to tell me that “as long as the DJ is playing music, we will be dancing.” So we are always the last two on the dance floor which was again the case this year.

After dinner is when this story takes a turn for the miraculous. The first miracle is that I neither passed out nor had a heart attack on the dance floor. The second miracle was something that happened in Megan’s heart. It happened while she danced.

The music thumped so we danced fast, did the “Push” (which we learned in one of our lessons), a little Cupid Shuffle, we rocked The Wobble and when it slowed down I took advantage of every opportunity to hold her close and slow dance. It was a bit cliche and could have been an image right off of the cover of a Hallmark card but about half way through the night she began to stand on my feet as we went around in circles. Her height put her head right at my chest, just under my chin and she would rest it there often. Her arms wrapped around me in a warm bear-hug. I followed suit and as we danced I whispered small phrases about how important she was, what a beautiful young lady she had turned out to be and how proud I was to be her dad. Heartfelt words that every little girl wants to hear he daddy tell her. While these words washed over her I began to feel tears soak through my shirt and her stomach started to quiver against mine. I tightened my grip around her and gave her a safe, assuring kiss on the head, allowing her to get out whatever was coming to the surface. A subtle weep turned into a full sob and then into what some women call an “ugly cry”. But nothing was ugly about this one.

We stayed like that for what seemed like ages but it could have only lasted a minute, maybe two. When she stepped off of my shoes and back onto the dance floor I got on my knees in front of her and gave her one more hug and walked her into the hallway and to the ladies room where she went to “freshen-up”.

As I stood there waiting for her I realized that what we had just experienced was what Freedom Ministry calls a “Father Hug”. It is a moment in which someone receives the healing power of God’s love through another person. Usually adults receive them from someone other than their real dad to heal wounds they have carried for years from their fathers. That night however, Megan was able to experience one as it was intended to be, from her real earthly father and the impact it had on her was obvious.

I take absolutely zero credit for it. I was only the conduit God used that night to bless her. As a matter of fact, I don’t even know what it was he dealt with and healed. What I do know is that freedom and healing can and should happen not just at church with the help of a pastor, but in our homes.

Part of my role as a father is to represent God in my home and demonstrate to my wife and daughter what He is like and treat them with the same grace and tenderness He would. The enormity of that responsibility is all together too much for my mind to handle and I constantly wonder how that is even possible.

Here is the message of hope: Even in my failures and times of weakness, there are moments like our “Dancing Father Hug” that remind me that God is really the one who does it as long as I am ready and willing to let him work through me.


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