Opa
IN GOD'S EYES
by Candace Carteen, Portland, Oregon
By the time I was ten, I was totally ashamed of my father. All
my friends called him names: Quasi-Moto, hunchback, monster,
little Frankenstein, the crooked little man with the crooked
little cane. At first it hurt when they called him those things,
but soon I found myself agreeing with them. He was ugly, and I
knew it!
My father was born with something called parastremmatic
dwarfism. The disease made him stop growing when he was about
thirteen and caused his body to twist and turn into a grotesque
shape. It wasn't too bad when he was a kid. I saw pictures of
him when he was about my age. He was a little short but quite
good-looking. Even when he met my mother and married her when he
was nineteen, he still looked pretty normal. He was still short
and walked with a slight limp, but he was able to do just about
anything. Mother said, "He even used to be a great dancer."
Soon after my birth, things started getting worse. Another
genetic disorder took over, and his left foot started turning
out, almost backward. His head and neck shifted over to the
right; his neck became rigid and he had to look over his left
shoulder a bit. His right arm curled in and up, and his index
finger almost touched his elbow. His spine warped to look
something like a big, old roller coaster and it caused his torso
to lie sideways instead of straight up and down like a normal
person. His walk became low, awkward, and deliberate.. He had to
almost drag his left foot as he used his deformed right arm to
balance his gait.
I hated to be seen with him. Everyone stared. They seemed to
pity me. I knew he must have done something really bad to have
God hate him that much. By the time I was seventeen, I was
blaming all my problems on my father. I didn't have the right
boyfriends because of him. I didn't drive the right car because
of him. I wasn't pretty enough because of him. I didn't have the
right jobs because of him. I wasn't happy because of him.
Anything that was wrong with me, or my life, was because of him.
If my father had been good-looking like Jane's father, or
successful like Paul's father, or worldly like Terry's father, I
would be perfect! I knew that for sure.
The night of my senior prom came, and Father had to place one
more nail in my coffin; he had volunteered to be one of the
chaperons at the dance.
My heart just sank when he told me. I stormed into my room,
slammed the door, threw myself on the bed, and cried. "Three
more weeks and I'll be out of here!" I screamed into my pillow.
"Three more weeks and I will have graduated and be moving away
to college." I sat up and took a deep breath.
"God, please make my father go away and leave me alone. He keeps
sticking his big nose in everything I do. Just make him
disappear, so that I can have a good time at the dance."
I got dressed, my date picked me up, and we went to the prom.
Father followed in his car behind us. When we arrived, Father
seemed to vanish into the pink chiffon drapes that hung
everywhere in the auditorium. I thanked God that He had heard my
prayer. At least now I could have some fun.
Midway through the dance, Father came out from behind the drapes
and decided to embarrass me again. He started dancing with my
girlfriends. One by one, he took their hand and led them to the
dance floor. He then clumsily moved them in circles as the band
played. Now I tried to vanish into the drapes.
After Jane had danced with him, she headed my way. Oh, no! I
thought. She's going to tell me he stomped on her foot or
something.
"Grace," she called, "you have the greatest
father."
My face fell. "What?"
She smiled at me and grabbed my shoulders. "Your father's
just
the best. He's funny, kind, and always finds the time to be
where you need him. I wish my father was more like that."
For one of the first times in my life, I couldn't talk. Her
words confused me.
"What do you mean?" I asked her.
Jane looked at me really strangely.. "What do you mean, what do
I mean? Your father's wonderful. I remember when we were kids,
and I'd sleep over at your house. He'd always come into your
room, sit down in the chair between the twin beds, and read us a
book. I'm not sure my father can even read," she sighed, and
then smiled. "Thanks for sharing him."
Then, Jane ran off to dance with her boyfriend. I stood there in
silence.
A few minutes later, Paul came to stand beside me.
"He's sure having a lot of fun."
"What? Who? Who is having a lot of fun?" I asked.
"Your father. He's having a ball."
"Yeah. I guess." I didn't know what else to say.
"You know, he's always been there," Paul said. "I
remember when
you and I were on the mixed-doubles soccer team. He tried out as
the coach, but he couldn't run up and down the field, remember?
So they picked Jackie's father instead. That didn't stop him. He
showed up for every game and did whatever needed to be done. He
was the team's biggest fan. I think he's the reason we won so
many games. Without him, it just would have been Jackie's father
running up and down the field yelling at us. Your father made it
fun. I wish my father had been able to show up to at least one
of our games. He was always too busy."
Paul's girlfriend came out of the restroom, and he went to her
side, leaving me once again speechless.
My boyfriend came back with two glasses of punch and handed me
one. "Well, what do you think of my father?" I asked out of the
blue.
Terry looked surprised. "I like him. I always have."
"Then why did you call him names when we were kids?"
"I don't know. Because he was different, and I was a dumb
kid."
"When did you stop calling him names?" I asked, trying to
search
my own memory.
Terry didn't even have to think about the answer. "The day
he
sat down with me outside by the pool and held me while I cried
about my mother and father's divorce. No one else would let me
talk about it. I was hurting inside, and he could feel it. He
cried with me that day. I thought you knew."
I looked at Terry and a tear rolled down my cheek as
long-forgotten memories started cascading into my consciousness.
When I was three, my puppy got killed by another dog, and my
father was there to hold me and teach me what happens when the
pets we love die.
When I was five, my father took me to my first day of school. I
was so scared. So was he. We cried and held each other that
first day. The next day he became teacher's helper.. When I was
eight, I just couldn't do math. Father sat down with me night
after night, and we worked on math problems until math became
easy for me. When I was ten, my father bought me a brand-new
bike. When it was stolen, because I didn't lock it up like I was
taught to do, my father gave me jobs to do around the house so I
could make enough money to purchase another one.. When I was
thirteen and my first love broke up with me, my father was there
to yell at, to blame, and to cry with. When I was fifteen and I
got to be in the honor society, my father was there to see me
get the accolade. Now, when I was seventeen, he put up with me
no matter how nasty I became or how high my hormones raged.
As I looked at my father dancing gaily with my friends, a big
toothy grin on his face, I suddenly saw him differently. The
handicaps weren't his, they were mine! I had spent a great deal
of my life hating the man who loved me. I had hated the exterior
that I saw, and I had ignored the interior that contained his
God-given heart. I suddenly felt very ashamed.
I asked Terry to take me home, too overcome with feelings to
remain.
On graduation day, at my Christian high school, my name was
called, and I stood behind the podium as the valedictorian of my
class. As I looked out over the people in the audience, my gaze
rested on my father in the front row sitting next to my mother.
He sat there, in his one and only, specially made suit, holding
my mother's hand and smiling.
Overcome with emotions, my prepared speech was to become a
landmark in my life.
"Today I stand here as an honor student, able to graduate with a
4.0 average. Yes, I was in the honor society for three years and
was elected class president for the last two years. I led our
school to championship in the debate club, and yes, I even won a
full scholarship to Kenton State University so that I can
continue to study physics and someday become a college
professor.
"What I'm here to tell you today, fellow graduates, is that
I
didn't do it alone. God was there, and I had a whole bunch of
friends, teachers, and counselors who helped. Up until three
weeks ago, I thought they were the only ones I would be thanking
this evening. If I had thanked just them, I would have been
leaving out the most important person in my life. My father."
I looked down at my father and at the look of complete shock
that covered his face.
I stepped out from behind the podium and motioned for my father
to join me onstage. He made his way slowly, awkwardly, and
deliberately. He had to drag his left foot up the stairs as he
used his deformed right arm to balance his gait. As he stood
next to me at the podium, I took his small, crippled hand in
mine and held it tight.
"Sometimes we only see the silhouette of the people around
us,"
I said. "For years I was as shallow as the silhouettes I saw.
For almost my entire life, I saw my father as someone to make
fun of, someone to blame, and someone to be ashamed of. He
wasn't perfect, like the fathers my friends had.
"Well, fellow graduates, what I found out three weeks ago is
that while I was envying my friends' fathers, my friends were
envying mine. That realization hit me hard and made me look at
who I was and what I had become. I was brought up to pray to God
and hold high principles for others and myself. What I've done
most of my life is read between the lines of the Good Book so I
could justify my hatred."
Then, I turned to look my father in the face.
"Father, I owe you a big apology. I based my love for you on
what I saw and not what I felt. I forgot to look at the one part
of you that meant the most, the big, big heart God gave you. As
I move out of high school and into life, I want you to know I
could not have had a better father. You were always there for
me, and no matter how badly I hurt you, you still showed up.
Thank you!"
I took off my mortar board and placed it on his head, moving the
tassel just so.
"You are the reason I am standing here today. You deserve this
honor, not me."
And as the audience applauded and cried with us, I felt God's
light shining down upon me as I embraced my father more warmly
than I ever had before, tears unashamedly falling down both our
faces.
For the first time, I saw my father through God's eyes, and I
felt honored to be seen with him.
From the book:
God Allows U Turns: True Stories of Hope and Healing by Allison
Bottke
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