Special Guest - Jennifer Whitney: A Good Father ... And My Struggle (Part One)

This week we continue our series on vulnerability, featuring Jennifer Whitney. She and her family live in Roswell, GA. For the past several years she has heroically homeschooled her two sons, while dealing with critical health challenges with her daughter. Read on as Jennifer shares how pain from her childhood shaped her. Here's Jennifer:

“It sounds like you have some unresolved father issues.”

This wasn’t the response I expected from a sarcastic comment I’d made during dinner with new friends. Where was the laughter? What happened to the clever comebacks? The dark-haired, young man seated next to me was supposed to return my banter, not point out my deepest, lifelong struggle to a group of college kids munching on mozzarella sticks.

An uncomfortable silence followed. I burned with the realization that my issues were not as well-hidden as I had hoped.

My past is not the way I'd like it to be. I’ve often felt as though I don’t fit here. Or there. Or really anywhere.

My parents never planned to have children. However, once my mother discovered she was pregnant, she joyfully embraced the idea of motherhood and all that would come with it.

My dad was a different story entirely.

My father’s conflicted feelings about being a father led him to have an affair before I was born. My parents divorced soon after and my father exited my life permanently. He terminated his parental rights, and with that decision, all contact with me.

Take that in for a minute. My own father, signing away rights and all contact with his very own flesh and blood – willingly and decisively.

My dad missed a lot of 'firsts' ... first day of school, dances, graduations, and many more.

I performed in choir and musicals growing up. I remember the sadness and envy I felt at every performance when my friends' fathers would bring them bouquets of flowers and beam with pride.

As a little girl, I remember staring in the mirror, seeing my reflection, wondering aloud, “What is wrong with me? What is so wrong with me, that my own father doesn’t want me?”

Eventually, I grew to hate mirrors. I dressed for school in the dark because I couldn’t stand to look at myself. I learned to apply eyeliner perfectly without a mirror. Photos of my teenage years are hard to come by because I often hid my face or ran from cameras.

I viewed every imperfection as proof. I was rejected. Unlovely. Unlovable. Unworthy.

I know many people say their personal faith ‘changed everything’ or ‘made everything better’ once attained. I wish I could say that becoming a Christian caused all my pain and insecurity to vanish. But it didn’t.

‘Religion’ was tough for me because I fell into the trap of dressing my Heavenly Father in the clothing of my earthly dad. Since my earthly father was absent and disapproving, I viewed God as though He was distant and reluctant to have a relationship with me, just as my dad was. I felt compelled to work for His love and favor. Church participation, reading the Bible, and service was often performed as an obligation and in quiet desperation. I continually strived to please God, laboring under the false belief that I could earn His acceptance through performance. It felt laborious, difficult, and burdensome.

While my head knew I was a child of God, my heart rarely felt that way. Instead, I felt abandoned, isolated, and still that lonely little girl longing for a father. Those haunting words spoken by the 'tell-it-like-it-is' (cute) guy at that restaurant so many years ago seemed to repeatedly ring in my ears: Yes, unresolved father issues were keeping me from experiencing the abundant life which I knew was awaiting me … somewhere. But where?

Jennifer will conclude her story next week. Please join me in thanking her for her willingness to expose such a very deep part of her heart. Thanks, Jen, for truly being vulnerable with us.

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