tear jerker...
all i can say is wow.
----- Original Message ----- 
From: "Cecily Ballenger" <[log in to unmask]>
To: <[log in to unmask]>
Sent: Saturday, February 16, 2008 12:24 PM
Subject: In God's Eyes


> >
>>   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.
>
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