Words Unsaid
Hurtful words were said to me by my dad at the dinner table tonight. I don’t recall exactly what his words were but it was something to the effect that I was wasting my time.
The course of the conversation was not directly about me. Dad made a generalizing comment that insinuated my inclusion in its sentiment. Right there I asked what he meant by it and if he was pertaining tome. I got the ‘ol family brush off.
Looking at us from outside the aquarium our family looks idyllic - silly notion, really. We, like all others, have our share of dysfunction unique among this set of individuals. We say a lot of things, we talk, we joke, we can tell each other anything; except the words that matter, the ones that touch our spirits, our hearts, our esteem.
When there are things that needed to be said we simply bottle it up either too shy to express it or too scared that it would merit the ire of my Father. And when things explode, the flare of the dramatics overshadows the seriousness of the issue. The desire to get back to the cheery normalcy is the root of the brush off, more like sweep under the rug.
Don’t let the sun go down on your anger. It also applies to all upsetting things.
So there I was getting the normal family treatment. I said normal; I didn’t say it was right. However, this time, I did not give in to the urge to sputter our in flames. I let Dad brush me off, to wait for the next opportune time to discuss the meaning behind his comment. That came a few minutes after my chores when he used my computer to surf the net.
Quite calmly I broached the subject and he confirmed my assumption: that general comment did include me. He also added that he was disappointed that I let two months go by, that I wasted my time.
Rewind time. Two months ago I, along with two friends, decided to quit our not-so-good-paying jobs at a not-so-good company to form one of our own. We got delayed by the promises of an investor but just a few days ago we decided to simply go ahead as originally planned. Dad knows this, I even agreed when he said that I should file the business papers right after the holidays. He knows about my meetings with our first client, he’s seem me work hard towards a proposal deadline. And here he was, telling me I wasn’t doing anything.
I guess he’s not used to the idea of a home-based office. Funny, because that was his suggestion two months ago as we were planning the business. I apologized for not having a spiffy office where I have to commute to and clock in 9 to 6 daily. I asked what it would take for him to say we were doing something. A million bucks? Believe it or not, he said yes. Okay. That’s in the 1st year of my business plan anyway. With God’s help, no problem.
Then I calmly said this before I left to retreat to my room. “Dad, I don’t know what you’re not seeing.”
I run to the only one that could make me feel better: my God. To others it is just an expression, but it means the world to me.
To God, I was not the failure my natural Dad accused me of. I know every resistance to the temptation to blast out in a dramatic tantrum is a victory, a success in His eyes. Though my heart felt heavy and I was bowed with tears in my eyes, my God was the lifter of my head and he was making me see things His way.
I knew if I trust my Lord’s timetable, His ways, His direction, I’ll be all right; no matter what people say, no matter if they understand or not. This was a test, a shaking; something that I accept because I know that it could only build my faith and my character. A small victory, a success that I rejoice for my God is great.
This story does not end with just a revelation of God’s love in the confines of my room. As I was writing this, Dad approached and asked if I was okay. In honesty, I said I was. Then I dared to do what I’ve never thought I could do: tell him that his word were hurtful and was something he should apologize for.
Now here’s were you see God at work. No need for arm twisting, no bouncing back of words to convince each other to action: Dad did. He said the words so rarely heard in this household from parent to child: “I’m sorry”. Then he continued to reaffirm his support for my new business.
I love my Dad. I know he loves me, too. This episode says it so without words. But you know what? I love my God even more.
Hurtful words were said to me by my dad at the dinner table tonight. I don’t recall exactly what his words were but it was something to the effect that I was wasting my time.
The course of the conversation was not directly about me. Dad made a generalizing comment that insinuated my inclusion in its sentiment. Right there I asked what he meant by it and if he was pertaining tome. I got the ‘ol family brush off.
Looking at us from outside the aquarium our family looks idyllic - silly notion, really. We, like all others, have our share of dysfunction unique among this set of individuals. We say a lot of things, we talk, we joke, we can tell each other anything; except the words that matter, the ones that touch our spirits, our hearts, our esteem.
When there are things that needed to be said we simply bottle it up either too shy to express it or too scared that it would merit the ire of my Father. And when things explode, the flare of the dramatics overshadows the seriousness of the issue. The desire to get back to the cheery normalcy is the root of the brush off, more like sweep under the rug.
Don’t let the sun go down on your anger. It also applies to all upsetting things.
So there I was getting the normal family treatment. I said normal; I didn’t say it was right. However, this time, I did not give in to the urge to sputter our in flames. I let Dad brush me off, to wait for the next opportune time to discuss the meaning behind his comment. That came a few minutes after my chores when he used my computer to surf the net.
Quite calmly I broached the subject and he confirmed my assumption: that general comment did include me. He also added that he was disappointed that I let two months go by, that I wasted my time.
Rewind time. Two months ago I, along with two friends, decided to quit our not-so-good-paying jobs at a not-so-good company to form one of our own. We got delayed by the promises of an investor but just a few days ago we decided to simply go ahead as originally planned. Dad knows this, I even agreed when he said that I should file the business papers right after the holidays. He knows about my meetings with our first client, he’s seem me work hard towards a proposal deadline. And here he was, telling me I wasn’t doing anything.
I guess he’s not used to the idea of a home-based office. Funny, because that was his suggestion two months ago as we were planning the business. I apologized for not having a spiffy office where I have to commute to and clock in 9 to 6 daily. I asked what it would take for him to say we were doing something. A million bucks? Believe it or not, he said yes. Okay. That’s in the 1st year of my business plan anyway. With God’s help, no problem.
Then I calmly said this before I left to retreat to my room. “Dad, I don’t know what you’re not seeing.”
I run to the only one that could make me feel better: my God. To others it is just an expression, but it means the world to me.
To God, I was not the failure my natural Dad accused me of. I know every resistance to the temptation to blast out in a dramatic tantrum is a victory, a success in His eyes. Though my heart felt heavy and I was bowed with tears in my eyes, my God was the lifter of my head and he was making me see things His way.
I knew if I trust my Lord’s timetable, His ways, His direction, I’ll be all right; no matter what people say, no matter if they understand or not. This was a test, a shaking; something that I accept because I know that it could only build my faith and my character. A small victory, a success that I rejoice for my God is great.
This story does not end with just a revelation of God’s love in the confines of my room. As I was writing this, Dad approached and asked if I was okay. In honesty, I said I was. Then I dared to do what I’ve never thought I could do: tell him that his word were hurtful and was something he should apologize for.
Now here’s were you see God at work. No need for arm twisting, no bouncing back of words to convince each other to action: Dad did. He said the words so rarely heard in this household from parent to child: “I’m sorry”. Then he continued to reaffirm his support for my new business.
I love my Dad. I know he loves me, too. This episode says it so without words. But you know what? I love my God even more.
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