Oh! Wow! How beautiful!

That brought tears to my eyes.

Love you,
Pat Ferguson

At 11:24 AM 2/16/2008, you wrote:
> >
> >   IN GOD'S EYES
> >
> >by Candace Carteen, Portland, Oregon
> >
> >By the time I was ten, I was totally ashamed of my father. All
> >my friends called him names: Quasi-Moto, hunchback, monster,
> >little Frankenstein, the crooked little man with the crooked
> >little cane. At first it hurt when they called him those things,
> >but soon I found myself agreeing with them. He was ugly, and I
> >knew it!
> >
> >My father was born with something called parastremmatic
> >dwarfism. The disease made him stop growing when he was about
> >thirteen and caused his body to twist and turn into a grotesque
> >shape. It wasn't too bad when he was a kid. I saw pictures of
> >him when he was about my age. He was a little short but quite
> >good-looking. Even when he met my mother and married her when he
> >was nineteen, he still looked pretty normal. He was still short
> >and walked with a slight limp, but he was able to do just about
> >anything. Mother said, "He even used to be a great dancer."
> >
> >Soon after my birth, things started getting worse. Another
> >genetic disorder took over, and his left foot started turning
> >out, almost backward. His head and neck shifted over to the
> >right; his neck became rigid and he had to look over his left
> >shoulder a bit. His right arm curled in and up, and his index
> >finger almost touched his elbow. His spine warped to look
> >something like a big, old rollercoaster and it caused his torso
> >to lie sideways instead of straight up and down like a normal
> >person. His walk became low, awkward, and deliberate. He had to
> >almost drag his left foot as he used his deformed right arm to
> >balance his gait.
> >
> >I hated to be seen with him. Everyone stared. They seemed to
> >pity me. I knew he must have done something really bad to have
> >God hate him that much. By the time I was seventeen, I was
> >blaming all my problems on my father. I didn't have the right
> >boyfriends because of him. I didn't driv e the right car because
> >of him. I wasn't pretty enough because of him. I didn't have the
> >right jobs because of him. I wasn't happy because of him.
> >
> >Anything that was wrong with me, or my life, was because of him.
> >If my father had been good-looking like Jane's father, or
> >successful like Paul's father, or worldly like Terry's father, I
> >would be perfect! I knew that for sure.
> >
> >The night of my senior prom came, and Father had to place one
> >more nail in my coffin; he had volunteered to be one of the
> >chaperones at the dance.
> >
> >My heart just sank when he told me. I stormed into my room,
> >slammed the door, threw myself on the bed, and cried. "Three
> >more weeks and I'll be out of here!" I screamed into my pillow.
> >"Three more weeks and I will have graduated and be moving away
> >to college." I sat up and took a deep breath.
> >
> >"God, please make my father go away and leave me alone. He keeps
> >sticking his big nose in everything I do. Just mak e him
> >disappear, so that I can have a good time at the dance."
> >
> >I got dressed, my date picked me up, and we went to the prom.
> >Father followed in his car behind us. When we arrived, Father
> >seemed to vanish into the pink chiffon drapes that hung
> >everywhere in the auditorium. I thanked God that He had heard my
> >prayer. At least now I could have some fun.
> >
> >Midway through the dance, Father came out from behind the drapes
> >and decided to embarrass me again. He started dancing with my girlfriends.
> >One by one, he took their hand and led them to the
> >dance floor. He then clumsily moved them in circles as the band
> >played. Now I tried to vanish into the drapes.
> >
> >After Jane had danced with him, she headed my way. Oh, no! I
> >thought. She's going to tell me he stomped on her foot or
> >something.
> >
> >"Grace," she called, "you have the greatest father."
> >
> >My face fell. "What?"
> >
> >She smiled at me and grabbed my shoulders. "Your father's just
> >the best. He's funny, kind, and always finds the time to be
> >where you need him. I wish my father was more like that."
> >
> >For one of the first times in my life, I couldn't talk. Her
> >words confused me.
> >
> >"What do you mean?" I asked her.
> >
> >Jane looked at me really strangely. "What do you mean, what do I
> >mean? Your father's wonderful. I remember when we were kids, and
> >I'd sleep over at your house. He'd always come into your room,
> >sit down in the chair betwee n the twin beds, and read us a book.
> >I'm not sure my father can even read," she sighed, and then
> >smiled. "Thanks for sharing him."
> >
> >Then, Jane ran off to dance with her boyfriend. I stood there in
> >silence.
> >
> >A few minutes later, Paul came to stand beside me.
> >
> >"He's sure having a lot of fun."
> >
> >"What? Who? Who is having a lot of fun?" I asked.
> >
> >"Your father. He's having a ball."
> >
> >"Yeah. I guess." I didn't know what else to say.
> >
> >"You know, he's always been there," Paul said. "I remember when
> >you and I were on the mixed-doubles soccer team. He tried out as
> >the coach, but he couldn't run up and down the field, remember?
> >So they picked Jackie's father instead. That didn't stop him. He
> >showed up for every game and did whatever needed to be done. He
> >was the team's biggest fan. I think he's the reason we won so
> >many games. Without him, it just would have been Jackie's father
> >running up and down the field yelling at us. Your father made it
> >fun. I wish my father had been able to show up to at least one
> >of our games. He was always too busy."
> >
> >Paul's girlfriend came out of the restroom, and he went to her
> >side, leaving me once again speechless.
> >
> >My boyfriend came back with two glasses of punch and handed me
> >one. "Well, what do you think of my father?" I asked out of the
> >blue.
> >
> >Terry looked surprised. "I like him. I always have."
> >
> >"Then why did you call him names when we were kids?"
> >
> >"I don't know. Because he was different, and I was a dumb kid."
> >
> >"When did you stop calling him names?" I asked, trying to search
> >my own memory.
> >
> >Terry didn't even have to think about the answer. "The day he
> >sat down with me outside by the pool and held me while I cried
> >about my mother and father's divorce. No one else would let me
> >talk about it. I was hurting inside, and he could feel it. He
> >cried with me that day. I thought you knew."
> >
> >I look e d at Terry and a tear rolled down my cheek as
> >long-forgotten memories started cascading into my consciousness.
> >
> >When I was three, my puppy got killed by another dog, and my
> >father was there to hold me and teach me what happens when the
> >pets we love die.
> >
> >When I was five, my father took me to my first day of school. I
> >was so scared. So was he. We cried and held each other that
> >first day. The next day he became teacher's helper. When I was
> >eight, I just couldn't do math. Father sat down with me night
> >after night, and we worked on math problems until math became
> >easy for me. When I was ten, my father bought me a brand-new
> >bike. When it was stolen, because I didn't lock it up like I was
> >taught to do, my father gave me jobs to do around the house so I
> >could make enough money to purchase another one. When I was
> >thirteen and my first love broke up with me, my father was there
> >to yell at, to blame, and to cry with. When I was fifteen an d I
> >got to be in the honor society, my father was there to see me
> >get the accolade. Now, when I was seventeen, he put up with me
> >no matter how nasty I became or how high my hormones raged.
> >
> >As I looked at my father dancing gaily with my friends, a big
> >toothy grin on his face, I suddenly saw him differently. The
> >handicaps weren't his, they were mine! I had spent a great deal
> >of my life hating the man who loved me. I had hated the exterior
> >that I saw, and I had ignored the interior that contained his
> >God-given heart. I suddenly felt very ashamed.
> >
> >I asked Terry to take me home, too overcome with feelings to
> >remain.
> >
> >On graduation day, at my Christian high school, my name was
> >called, and I stood behind the podium as the valedictorian of my
> >class. As I looked out over the people in the audience, my gaze
> >rested on my father in the front row sitting next to my mother.
> >He sat there, in his one and only, specially made suit, holding
> >my mother's hand and smiling.
> >
> >Overcome with emotions, my prepared speech was to become a
> >landmark in my life.
> >
> >"Today I stand here as an honor student, able to graduate with a
> >4.0 average. Yes, I was in the honor society for three years and
> >was elected class president for the last two years. I led our
> >school to championship in the debate club, and yes, I even won a
> >full scholarship to Kenton State U niversity so that I can
> >continue to study physics and someday become a college
> >professor.
> >
> >"What I'm here to tell you today, fellow graduates, is that I
> >didn't do it alone. God was there, and I had a whole bunch of
> >friends, teachers, and counselors who helped. Up until three
> >weeks ago, I thought they were the only ones I would be thanking
> >this evening. If I had thanked just them, I would have been
> >leaving out the most important person in my life. My father."
> >
> >I looked down at my father and at the look of complete shock
> >that covered his face.
> >
> >I stepped out from behind the podium and motioned for my father
> >to join me onstage. He made his way slowly, awkwardly, and
> >deliberately. He had to drag his left foot up the stairs as he
> >used his deformed right arm to balance his gait. As he stood
> >next to me at the podium, I took his small, crippled hand in
> >mine and held it tight.
> >
> >"Sometimes we only see the silhouette of the peopl e around us,"
> >I said. "For years I was as shallow as the silhouettes I saw.
> >For almost my entire life, I saw my father as someone to make
> >fun of, someone to blame, and someone to be ashamed of. He
> >wasn't perfect, like the fathers my friends had.
> >
> >"Well, fellow graduates, what I found out three weeks ago is
> >that while I was envying my friends' fathers, my friends were
> >envying mine. That realization hit me hard and made me look at
> >who I was and what I had become. I was brought up to pray to God
> >and hold high principles for others and myself. What I've done
> >most of my life is read between the lines of the Good Book so I
> >could justify my hatred."
> >
> >Then, I turned to look my father in the face.
> >
> >"Father, I owe you a big apology. I based my love for you on
> >what I saw and not what I felt. I forgot to look at the one part
> >of you that meant the most, the big, big heart God gave you. As
> >I move out of high school and into life, I want y o u to know I
> >could not have had a better father. You were always there for
> >me, and no matter how badly I hurt you, you still showed up.
> >Thank you!"
> >
> >I took off my mortar board and placed it on his head, moving the
> >tassel just so.
> >
> >"You are the reason I am standing here today. You deserve this
> >honor, not me."
> >
> >And as the audience applauded and cried with us, I felt God's
> >light shining down upon me as I embraced my father more warmly
> >than I ever had before, tears unashamedly falling down both our
> >faces.
> >
> >For the first time, I saw my father through God's eyes, and I
> >felt honored to be seen with him.
> >
> > From the book:
> >God Allows U Turns: True Stories of Hope and Healing by Allison
> >Bottke(Editor), Cheryll Hutchings
> >
> >Happiness often sneaks in.....through a door you didn't know you left open.
> >--
> >Come visit us on the Web at
> ><http://furandfeathers.home.att.net/>http://furandfeathers.home.att.net.