Warm tea with sweet milk. The Little Mermaid on the television screen. Memories of monkeys and birds and elephants and other fantasies of a child’s mind that come to life at the zoo. These are details I can recall from the last time I saw my biological father at 4-years-old. It’s also coincidentally my earliest human memory. Being with my father.

I never really acknowledged that I had “daddy issues” until about 2018 when I resumed therapy. I knew I was associating unpleasant feelings with my biological father, evidenced by me calling him “sperm donor” up until about 4 months ago. Or the way I defended not “needing” him to anyone that inquired when I shared that I had an awesome step-father. It was even in the way I anticipated a “Happy Birthday” text message from him since 2014. Oh yeah … 2014.

Twenty years after our last face-to-face interaction, a couple years after I reached out as a college freshman, he text me. November 10th, 2014 — three days after my 24th birthday and he was convinced I didn’t know when I was born. The tardiness of the birthday wish wasn’t helping his case, especially since soon after the conversation shifted from my celebration of life to him sharing that his mother was sick with cancer. A trigger point. A hook. I didn’t know how to feel: empathetic, concerned, saddened, prayerful? I was still processing the fact that he reached out, to me. Between 1994 and 2014, I had reached out once, texting with anticipation and hope, only to have a 20 minute text conversation ending with him wishing me well on my future endeavors — like the closing of a rejection letter from a job interview. A rejection.

The 2014 text conversation lasted a couple of hours, and that was it. Radio silence. Until November 7th, 2015, then 2016, then 2017. My birthday was the 1 of 365 days a year I heard from him. And for some reason, that scarce yet reliable contact kept me open. Open to communicate, open to forgiveness, open to him. It’s no wonder I hold on to words. If I combed through the various bait that kept me hooked in past relationships, it was the person’s words. Their absence could span days, weeks, months — hell, even years — but I’d leave a window open for the wind of their words to change the temperature of my heart towards them once more. And that openness, started with him. My father.

At a young age, I remember fingering through phone books, looking for any names that matched his so I could call and hear his voice. Tell him I wanted to see him, to go to the zoo again. As a teen, I had his cell phone number for years and decided as a college freshman, I was an adult, and no longer needed money but moments from him. I wanted to know him. So of course, even after rejection, I was sent soaring when he reached out in 2014. And dangling there from those texts I remained for years. Until 2018, when I fell flat from the silence.

I didn’t get a 28th birthday text. I waited the 24 hours of my birthday and even the week after, anticipating a belated wish. But nothing. I was honestly devastated. Telling my mother of the silence, she was relieved. In retrospect, I see how her relief was that of a mother wanting to protect the heart of her daughter from any further disappointment and harm. But in that moment, I was resentful. I longed for that contact and without it, I felt I had nowhere to turn to express my pain. Nowhere but God.

November 7th, 2018 began a shift in my relationship with God from an authority that I reverenced, to a father, Abba, that I required.

Therapy and Prayer: coexisting to hold my right and left hands as I journeyed through healing and wholeness. I didn’t recognize while I walked, but I truly had to move from needing man to fill this void to asking God to heal it. I centered my new found perspective around addressing God as such, Abba. Beloved Father. I saw Him as a protector, a provider, a confidant, an embrace, a tear wiper, a guide, a fixer, a first love, an encourager. Picture a “typical father-daughter relationship” — I shifted my perspective to seeing God in that light. I was fully known and fully loved, as His daughter. The acknowledgement and affection I was worthy of since birth, but sought after my entire life.

Now, my therapist also helped me acknowledge that the “typical father-daughter relationship” I was seeking with God, my step-father, and even my biological father, needed to be set down and replaced with acceptance that my relationships are anything but typical. Acceptance that in all of their complexities, they are exactly what I need in the moment that I am presently experiencing them. And that acceptance helped a peace wash over me that I can’t explain. I was ok. And no longer resentful that I didn’t have the storybook version of the father-daughter relationship, because that “storybook” wasn’t my story.

A year of peace keeping, perspective shifting, present living — I was ok. Life wasn’t perfect, but my 29th birthday approached and I had no expectations for a text message. I was content. And of course, that’s how life works: once you’re content and at peace, your strength is tested. He text me.

This birthday wish began in a typical fashion: a picture of flowers, wishes for a blessed year and celebration, and my response of gratitude. But it’s the follow up that changed my life.

He wanted to keep communicating. Not about his mom or whether or not I knew my birthday story. But about us. He wanted to begin a relationship.

Twenty-five years of emotion rushed in and the 4-year-old in me arrived: I cried like a baby. This was the sentiment I was leaving space for all of these years. The shield of defensive labels and dismissal all a façade — I left space for him my entire life. And God occupied it with love, preparing it for my biological father. I was spiritually and emotionally prepared for this journey.

November 10th 2019: our scheduled call date. Now the 4-year-old in me was elated! She anticipated his voice, his responses, his accent, his intrigue. The teen in me was skeptical and honestly rebellious, wanting to go in guarded and with an entitled attitude. But the adult, the evolving woman in me, went in with forgiveness and love. I knew that as much as this was a life moment for me, it was a life moment for him, too.

Hands shaking, eyes watered, heart pounding — I sat in my car and counted the seconds until our agreed upon call time. And when it rang, I answered, hearing the voice of a man my spirit already knew.

Vibe Tunes ATM:

Abba x Leon Timbo | Sacred Space x India.Arie