FATHERHOOD BECOMES ME

In celebration of Father's Day today, let me share with you my reflection on the book, The Return Of The Prodigal Son.

People often say that “there is no place like home.”  It is so because it is in the home where we  find genuine and unconditional love.  However, home does not necessarily mean a place where our biological family is.   It is rather a life of affection expressed by people to each other.  Thus, wherever one feels loved and protected, there is one’s home. 

This  seemed to be the tenor of Henri J.M. Nouwen book entitled, The Return Of The Prodigal Son.  The author’s encounter with Rembrandt’s painting, The Return Of The Prodigal Son, which is  based on the well revered  biblical parable had made him to come to terms with himself.  Indeed, Rembrandt had  a homecoming after recapturing the message of The Parable Of The Prodigal Son through his painting, Nouwen, after probing on Rembrandt’s artwork through his book  and myself, after reading Nouwen’s book through my reflection.

Life is a journey.  Every person is a sojourner.  The Prodigal Son is a story of the journey of a father, of a son and of a brother. Rembrandt had his own pilgrimage. So are Nouwen and me. 

This paper contains my reflection on Nouwen’s book and a chronicle of my own journey as  a son  to my parents,  a son to my God, a brother to my fellow Christians and a father to my children. 

The Older Brother in Me

            I am the older son  in the family of two. Growing up, my parents saw me as  the kinder, smarter and more responsible kid than my brother.  I learned to live up to that image.  I was too kind to refuse a person’s  request and needs. I find it difficult to say no to anybody.

 I remember when I was a grade five student,  my teacher asked us to draw a picture of a national hero on a piece of paper.  Because I have the talent in drawing, almost half  of my class begged me to draw for them.  And the good boy obliged without any complaint.  In my mind, I was the better hero to my classmates than the hero that I drew.

            During playtime, I always play the underdog.  This is the reason why I have not developed fondness of sports.  It feels  like heaven when winning but hell  seeing the sad eyes of my losing opponent.

            Another characteristic that I developed to further support  my good boy image is my refusal to ask anything for myself.  I feel embarrass to do it.  I hate being a  liability to others.  I remember how my grandmother noticed and commended that attitude of mine.  She said that I am different from my cousins who are always thinking of what to ask from her.

The Older Brother in my Christianity

I was seventeen years old and a fourth year high school student when my classmate shared to me about the gift of salvation of God.  The message of the cross was clearly explained to me.  My prayer of acceptance was sincere.  But the “older brother” in me was carried over to my Christianity.

I strongly believed that God loves me so much.  But I also tried to buy God’s love.  I put an effort to deserve God’s love.   I mistook God to the people who I need to please and  prove that I am the better person.  Major part of my Christian life is spent earning the nod of God.  I tried to prove that I deserve the gift of salvation God has given  me.  This kind of Christian outlook put me into long period of guilt and self condemnation whenever I fell short of God’s standard.  I feel guilty by not praying all the time and by not reading the Bible religiously.   I feel like God is blaming and frowning at my failure. Likewise, I  don’t give much allowance to other Christians’ mistakes.  If they cannot measure to my standards, I regard them as unfaithful. I always thought of leaving my church for a better church whenever I see my brothers and sisters in faith do not walk according to how I walk as a Christian. 

 I was proud of my conservative Christianity.  I also lived with the idea that spirituality can be experienced through spiritual discipline like payer and Bible study.  That there are Christian music and demonic music as well.  I am a modern Pharisee who has nothing to do with the alcoholics, drug dependents and sexually immoral persons.

Fatherhood Became Me

            I got married and had three children.  Family life was a welcome development to me.  I was not a perfect husband and  father but I am the best that my family got.  I have been a hands-on-dad.  I had no problem doing domestic chores.  But just like most men, family is not my ultimate goal.  The desire for individual fulfillment oftentimes permeate to my heart and mind.  I was in the course of finding ways to realize the fulfillment of my dreams when tragedy struck to  our family.  My wife had a severe  hypertension and died after three days of hospital confinement.  I was really devastated.  I felt like a bird with  broken wings when I lose her. I felt as if my world stopped turning when she was gone. 

With three little children left to me, the sight of the future was so bleak.  There were times I felt not having a home to go to after spending a day outside. Life was so simple when she was still around.  And so I was thinking of a better life for all of us.  But her sudden death  endangered our simple life and threatened my quest for a better life.  People around me had nothing but pity on me and on my children.  They even doubt if I can bring up my children and send them to school.  They were right.  I was really pitiful that time.  It will indeed be tough to be a single father of three.  But sympathy is what they can only offer to me.  My in-laws, my own parents and relatives could not afford  to help me financially. They were hard up too.   In the end, my life as a widower  was my own battle to fight.  There were so many things  running in my mind as far as bringing up my children is concern.  “How can I raise my three children alone?  Where can I get the money to feed three mouths?  What about my own dreams?  What about my own life?  Will I  live my remaining years merely fathering my children?”  These were hard questions.  Questions that do not have ready answers.  Tough question with scary answers. 

Amos, Amiel Adrian and Amen Learn

            Acceptance of my life as a single parent was not easy.  On the outside I appeared alright but on the inside, I was full of resentment because of the responsibility that my wife left  to me. 

            Years passed, I met my would be second wife.  She got pregnant.  We got married. The demands for my paternal responsibility increased.  I was still overcoming my deep seated resentment when another child came.  I felt inadequate and exhausted as a father.  My wife knew it.  She was disappointed and hurt.  Our relationship was shaky.

            I was then a father who longed to have a rest like a child in the arms of a father.  And God gave me peace … a peace of mind.  God made me realized that there is no problem living my whole life as a father.  He taught me that “fatherhood is also a calling.”  Divine calling it is.  I felt so enlightened knowing that Abraham’s calling was to be a father.  He was not called to be a professional or artistic person.  He was destined to be a father.  From then on, there was no longer regrets in raising all my children.

Aiah Dasha and Aiehn Deosjua

            My seeming divine enlightenment does not mean that I am living a problem free life.  The battle against resentment in rearing my children have long gone from my heart.  It is the manner of raising that I now find myself in.

            One day, my middle child, suddenly refused to go to school.  I have tried everything I could to convince him to go back to school but to no avail. I thought I would die because of his decision.  I think any parent would feel the same.  I was so afraid of his fate, of his future.    But what can I do if he himself refuses to listen, to cooperate?  In the end, I surrendered.  I just carried day after day the pain of seeing him doing nothing and doing what he is not supposed to do.

One day, I accidentally  discovered the answer to my old long question.  While I was looking for something in the study table in the living area, a mini notebook caught my attention.  I opened it and was surprised to know that it belonged to my second son.  The notebook appeared to be his diary.   I am certain that it is unethical to look at someone’s personal belonging such as  a diary,  but my curiosity overpowered my sense of propriety.  While browsing the pages, questions filled my mind.  Could this diary answers my questions about my son’s behavior?  Could this reveal why he hates schooling?  The first pages cronicles my son’s activities and feelings for the assigned date.  I kept on reading until I went to a page that says it all.  Not that it answered all my questions but its content is enough to pacify a father’s worries and concerns.  The entry to that page goes this way,” Today, my   brother, father and me did the laundry.  We were happy doing it.  By the way, I no longer have a mother.  But I am not lonely because our father loves us very much.” Before I knew it, tears are already welling in my eyes.  Not that I have found all the answers. But, finding the only answer that matters. 

Sooner, I found myself back to the times when I responded with violence to my son’s decision not to pursue his schooling anymore.  I remembered how hard I kicked his back to push him away from home.  Another incedent was when I threw him a bucket of water  until his room was all soaking wet.  I realized how bad a father I was to  my children.  That instead of loving them by showing them understanding, I oftentimes responded with irritation and anger.  I realized that my show of affection to them does not justify my violent tendencies in dealing with their shortcomings.

I couldn’t believe that my son, would write that thing.  I used to think that they won’t feel much loved because they grew up without the presence and guidance of a mother.  In fact, I was the only one they have. 

I realized that in spite of my occasional vehement and unfatherly attitude towards them, they still saw  and felt the efforts I exerted in raising them and loving them as my children.

Now, I am no longer afraid of their future.  I resolved to love them no matter what they become someday.  I have learned also to embrace myself, including my weaknesses and brokenness. I surrender myself now to the loving arms of God and just enjoy His unconditional love.

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