Daddy, Where Are You?

 Dear Daddy,

    Growing up, I never thought I had a problem with you.  You were around and I was the reason for your smile.  But as I have grown into a woman, I have looked back on my life and seen an inconsistency.  I have been insecure.  I was unsure.  I shared thoughts in my mind and it was too much.  I have seen brothers make mistakes and lose their favor; could I be in the same boat?  If not, why not?  Though you were around, growing up, I still felt alone.  And I felt like I had to carry the worries of this world on my shoulders.  Where were you?
    I know that you met Jesus later in life.  I know a shift in your marriage and parenting came.  But as I matured, I was the one who pursued Christ more than you.  I went into my Word, and asked for accountability.  I wanted to go deeper, but you stayed in the shallow end.  You were proud of me in every area of my life.  Present for the milestones in life.  Like two peas in a pod, we were.  But when God was brought up, you were found amiss.  Confused.  When dysfunction entered the home, I found myself holding the reins.  Instead of me finding shelter in your wisdom, you would ask me what was to be done.  Emotionally present, but spiritually absent. I was not meant to carry the household.  Nevertheless, I found that I have taught myself to never be in want.  Although, I admit I am in need. 
    As the years progressed, you grew in your faith.  You are one to speak of Jesus often.  I can tell you are near to Him and His heart.  But you are hidden in the back room.  Fully aware of the world’s plights, but are you ignorant of what goes on your home?  Your tears cry for the destruction of the earth, but what is its worth when you are absent from the hearts of your children?  Are you - and forgive me if I pre-judge, more concerned with ministry that you fail to realize that your family is priority?  Now you are spiritually present, but emotionally and physically absent.  As you are silent, I step up and help the mother rear her children.  The children whom you are accountable for. 
    I always wondered why I found security in being alone.  Simultaneously, fretting all the while that I was disconnected.  But I have learned that I must care for my own soul.  Mothers taught me rejection; but fathers taught me abandonment.  I have to speak, because the fathers fail to step up.  I cannot admit need, because I have households that I must care for.  I know I want to be loved by a man, as I should be, but how can I if I don’t ever trust him.  More importantly, I know I have come to believe that God may love me, but He “must” be distant.  I have to beg for your presence, but I’m hesitant to interrupt the importance of the screens placed before your eyes. 
    I need you near.  I need you to carry.  I need you to be present in all respects.  So, will you come?