My Four Fathers

No, I did not mean to type “forefathers.”    You’ll see.  But first,,,

What makes a person a father? 

Sperm donation? 

Someone present at the birth? 

A name on a birth certificate?

Sure.  These could fall under the definition of “father.” 

One on-line dictionary stated it thusly:

A male parent.

A father-in-law, stepfather, or adoptive father.

Any male ancestor, progenitor.

A man who exercises paternal care over other persons.  Paternal protector, provider.

In the case of that last line, I have had four fathers.

1.  Rex John.  He’s the one on the birth certificate.  We share blood, skin-tone, distaste for olives, love of writing, and rather round craniums.  He proclaims his love for me in so many ways I can’t possibly count them.  My first daddy who will always make me laugh.

2.  David Rutledge.  He stepped into the role of paternal caregiver when he married my mom.  I loved him instantly and continue to be grateful for his life and care.

3.  Bill Cutrer (senior).  He became a paternal protector when I made vows to love, honor, and cherish his son.  (And promised to be a Dallas Cowboy Fan and Kentucky Wildcat Fan forever amen.)  A father-in-law like no other, my heart continues ache after his departure for heaven two years ago.

4.  Brad Snyder.  He elected to share the role of paternal provider when he moved in with (and later married) my dad.  (Yes, you read that right.)*  I’ve truly enjoyed getting to know Brad over these last ten years.  He’s a remarkable man.

*This is the first time I’ve mentioned this on my blog.  Maybe someday I’ll tell you more of the story.

FOUR. 

I have four extraordinary men who carry out fatherly roles in my life.  I have a unique relationship with each of them and am truly grateful for all the fond memories that have flooded my mind as I’ve stared at each of their names on this page.  

Each of them has touched my life in different ways—

Laughter, wise advice, a listening ear, discipline, challenging questions, calm words of encouragement, thoughtful gifts, protection, material provision—(too much to count!), help with fixing things, housewarming gifts, useful lessons, great suggestions, kind hugs, spiritual direction, and faithful prayers

--just to name a few.

Each of these men has built me up, filled me up, and made my life remarkably better.

Each of these men has also let me down.

That is because earthly fathers will do that.  (And that’s ok.  That’s life on earth.  Get therapy.  Get over it.)

For me, Father’s Day isn’t just about celebrating these four remarkable men whom I truly love.  It’s also about raising my eyes up to look in the face of the eternal Paternal Provider.  The Father who made me, faithfully provides for me, consistently fills me, wisely leads me, gently disciplines me, brilliantly heals me, miraculously forgives me, and perfectly loves me.  He will never let me down.

I smile at His sovereign plan to place all four of these men in my life and my heart.  I thank Him for the joy of relationships—especially the joy of knowing Him: the Father who sees me, who hears me, and who draws near to me.  

This Sunday, I'll imagine sitting on the couch next to Him, angled a little so I can see Him open the card I just gave Him.  He smiles as He lifts the flap on the envelope, already knowing the words inside, which inadequately attempt to tell Him how much love is in my heart.  

I lean in for a hug.

Happy Father’s Day, Daddy.