Photo by: cliff1066
I recently heard a 2 and ½ minute conversation on NPR’s StoryCorps between Walter, a 73 year old father and his 36 year old son, Christopher.
Walter, an author with almost 100 books to his name, grew up in Harlem, the son of a janitor. He recalls how at 14 he had already developed a love for writing, and because he had a job, was able to save up enough money for a typewriter. His mother, however, had a drinking problem and spent the money.
When his father found out what had happened, he took some of his own hard earned money and bought Walter a Royal typewriter.
What Walter says was so hard though is that even though his dad bought him that typewriter, he was deeply hurt by the fact that, over the years, his dad never said anything about his writing.
Walter said that even when he began including in his books some of the stories he had heard his dad tell, his father would never comment on them.
At that point, Christopher asked his dad whether he ever asked his father about it.
Walter said, no, he had never done that, and that even when his father was dying, he brought him a book that he had just written. He said his dad just picked up the book, looked at it, and laid it down without saying a word.
Later, however, Walter told Christopher that after his dad had died, he went to his father’s house and went through his papers. As he did he noticed something that surprised him. He saw XXXX wherever his signature should have been.
It was only then that he discovered that his father could not read or write. Walter went on to say, “The man couldn’t read. I mean, that was why he never said anything about my writing. It just tore me up, I mean, I could have read him a story at the hospital.”
Few things in life may be more important than the ability to humanize our own fathers. Yet, all too often, because of our own unmet longings for a approval, it can be difficult to do so.
Today might be a good time to remember how important it is to us– and to the honor of our fathers– to realize that, whether we have seen it or not, they are far more like us (needy, broken, and with unmet longings) than we are inclined to realize.
Sometimes we may need to be able to bring our fathers down to size before we can see past them to the Father who made us for himself (John 14:8-9).
Let’s not miss the implications of what Jesus said to Mary when, after his death and resurrection, he said, “Go find my brothers and tell them that I am ascending to my Father and your Father, my God and your God” (John 20:17).
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