I remember that my father always had black licorice in an orange and yellow canister at his house when we visited on weekends. I remember that he brought me wrestling magazines when I was hospitalized for a kidney infection in junior high. I remember that the bed I had at his house had one of those bookshelf headboards with secret cubby doors that you could hide all sorts of treasures in. I remember that he collected coins and gemstones. I remember that I once found an antique diamond ring while walking with him through a park. Sadly, though I do not remember ever hearing him say "I love you." Click here to read more.
1 comment:
I've learned this same lessson, but not of forgiving my dad, rather someone else in my life that I could never forgive for the wrongs she did... one day, and yes, it was at church, it hit me and I have come to forgive her and my relationship with the Lord has grown since that day!
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