God Does Not Desert Us

There was never any doubt our parents loved us. They married at 18 and 19 and started having kids. They were just kids raising kids, doing the best they could.

I have two younger brothers. We are each two years apart. I’m sure we would have been labeled ADHD if we’d been tested back then.

Ours was a happy home, but there were times of stress like any family goes through. Dad’s jobs were always feast or famine, and his mood followed the income. It was not a complete surprise in 1983 when our parents told us they were going to divorce. They waited until my youngest brother went off to college. It was not an amicable divorce, and it created a huge rift between dad and we three boys. My favorite story was going with mom to the courthouse to meet with the lawyers. Dad got there early and cancelled the meeting, all pre-cell phones of course, so we didn’t know. He just walked down the back stairs as we were walking up the front stairs. He took mom’s car, stranding us there. Why not? The car was titled in his name. Just one of several interesting stories that widened the gap between his sons and added to mom’s hatred.

One more story before we make the final turn and head down the final stretch.

Dad decides there is nothing left for him in Indiana and heads to Tennessee. Dad finds the Lord, stops drinking, stops smoking, starts walking, and he finds a girl my age, marries, and has three more kids.

Abandoned? Because our parents divorced after we all moved out of the house, we would never say we grew up a product of divorce. But no matter what the age, a divorce can be like a death in the family. I lost my dad. We stopped speaking after the car incident in 1983. It certainly leaves a hole. I was not surprised by the maturity level of dad’s stunts, but he was my dad, and he was not a perfect human being, and neither was mom, nor am I. How do you honor your father after all that?

…but God…

Five years later, our new church family, Wesley Chapel, invited me and Nancy to experience the Emmaus Walk, Louisville 10/11, in 1988. Another member of the congregation was part of my table group. During one our intense discussion times, he shared the struggle and loss of relationship with his son. He broke down in tears because he had not heard a word from his son in 25 years. His heart was broken, and it was just what I needed to hear. I didn’t want to live another 20 years with a broken relationship with my dad.

So, I called him. Sometimes we need to make the effort even if it isn’t received or isn’t perfect. Dad was pretty much still dad, but I knew I needed to reach out to him and try to mend the fence. I would call him off and on after that. My brothers did the same. One brother talked to dad every day after that until the day dad died. The other brother called occasionally and actually visited him in Tennessee once in the hospital before he died. It wasn’t Disney happily ever after, but it was a working relationship and sometimes that’s enough.



We may be abandoned, rejected, or just neglected, but God will never desert us nor forsake us, and maybe God will provide a way to deal with, perhaps even restore, our relationships.