There are a lot of people in the world that feel short changed by their deadbeat dad. There truly are a lot of children that are losing out on certain parts of their life because of a man that walked away. And then there are children that are enjoying the fullness of life because of men that picked up those broken pieces. I am a part of the latter statistic. And to say that I'm blessed and grateful are gigantic understatements.
My biological father left when I was young. I don't know the whole story. The details have fallen apart as I've gotten older and I have forgiven him and can clearly see that God's plan for my life may have included his sperm, but it also included the influence of much greater men than the person that my bio dad was able to be. I was younger than Zella when my mom and bio dad divorced. I was too young to understand but old enough to know that what was happening wasn't positive and that I was losing someone in my life. He's the guy that I let hurt me for years and years. He's the guy that made broken promises and every single time he promised he would show up and he didn't, my little heart broke. Just a couple of years after he left God walked my step dad into our lives. I resisted at first because it was different. I didn't want 2 dads. I wanted the one that I knew to man up and come home. But Kenny knew that wasn't going to happen. And he worked so so hard to be every ounce of what bio dad never was. He worked hard to provide for us. When the time came for my sister and I to go to private school he was a golf pro by day, bartender by night and landscaper on the weekends. Just to pay tuition. Somewhere in between those jobs he managed to teach me how to catch a pop fly (not without a few busted chins), coach me through countless years of basketball and perfect my jump shot, cook meals for us (and announce what was for dinner in this TERRIBLE French accent), discipline us (y'all just don't know some of the shenanigans me and McCall got into), teach us the art of eating the chicken wing every Friday night, let us live a cultured life with trips to professional sporting events and fancy schmancy restaurants, be a total goofball when we needed to laugh, and a total sap when we needed to cry. I will always remember the look on his face on Christmas morning every year when bio dad would call. It was part defeat (because this guy just wouldn't go away!) and part anger, because he knew that his girls would get their hopes up, and that eventually we would be let down again. He wasn't super emotional. He was a tough guy. He parented us like he coached us. He would show us how and expect us to watch and learn and then fully expected us to do it on our own. He allowed us independence and when we couldn't handle it, he pulled the rope back in. Even into college days, when we would sneak in through the doggy door in the back, he would be in the recliner waiting for us. Because we were his girls. I remember this one night I was going on a date and I walked into the kitchen and he said "go change". He NEVER commented on my clothes. Ever. That was moms department. He never commented, until comment was needed. And he was quick to inform me that my skirt was too short. And that was not okay. I remember the night I missed curfew. By A WHOLE LOT. And when I got home he was standing on the other side of the front door, hands tucked behind his back like a drill instructor. There are few times that I have been that terrified in my life. And I never did it again. I'll never forget the first time he cried with me. My first serious boyfriend dumped and well, I was a 16 year old girl about it and did not handle it well. And this boy said some things to me on the phone one night that were just plain awful. And he had no idea that Kenny had picked up the phone and was listening. After that boy saw his life flash before his eyes, Kenny came in my bedroom crying. He sat on the edge of the bed with me and told me that I was never to talk to that guy again. Because no one, ever, in the history of ever, was allowed to speak to me that way. When I was in college and he almost lost me......he drove around with my picture next to the speedometer in his car. I don't know if he knew that I knew that. I lost almost 2 years with him. When he and my mom separated and things weren't exactly amicable I made judgements and mistakes. And I lost some great great years with him. But God is good. And when we reconciled, it was like no time was lost. We don't talk every day. We don't talk near enough. But I hope he knows that my childhood wouldn't have been much of one if it weren't for him. I hope he knows that the discipline I have in life today was learned as he taught me about perfecting my shot, my catch, my throw, my pitch. To never ever give up. To always get up and keep going. I can't put the memories all into this blog......but Kenny Conroy, you're a great dad.
And I don't just have a great dad. I have an incredible uncle. I was talking to my Granny this week and she said to me "I can remember carrying Ronnie around when he was a baby and praying that he would have children one day. And I hurt so bad for him that he didn't. But I know why. God knew that he would have his girls and he knew that Ronnie would need to take care of me." It broke my heart. I won't tell his story. It's not mine to tell. But I will say that he's a blessing, an influence, a force in my life. And I know that God knew. I know that God knew that my "unca Ronnie" would love us and care for us like we were his daughters. God knew his story before there was time. We had lunch today and the kids were being crazy and we still sat and talked for over an hour......after we stood outside in the parking lot talking for over an hour. I could talk to him for years and there would never be a lull. He's a wealth of knowledge and when I talk, he listens. He has a genuine interest in what's happening in my life. He gave me my first real job. He afforded me the opportunity to sow into a family business with his name on it and he taught me and answered my stupid questions and trusted me with his most valuable customers. He gave me confidence in showing me that he trusted me. For 8 years, every morning I would check in with him. I would stand in the doorway of his office and we'd laugh and talk and then every afternoon we'd stroll over to Granny's house together before saying goodbye for the afternoon. I loved working with him. We drove each other crazy some days. But that's love. That's how it works. And the next day, the waters were always calm and we had moved forward. I love this man. Because it drives me absolutely bananas how he gives until it hurts. And then gives a little more. When my Granddaddy was alive he had this blind faith in people. He always wanted to believe that there was good in them. And so many times that hurt him. And he didn't stop believing. And I see that in Uncle Ronnie. He wants to believe that there is good left in the world. He wants to believe that if he helps someone that it will genuinely help them.....it will lift their morale and pick up their spirit and change their mind about the state of their living. He gives and gives and gives. I love that about him. He's my guy when I have a car question, a business question, a financial question, a funny kid story, a funny Granny story, anything funny in general (we love to laugh together). He's the first one I call. And what totally melts my heart.......is that he's the first one that Jake calls now too. He's never NOT answered my calls. Ever. He's my encourager. We were at his house a few weeks ago and he pulled me aside and just said "you're a great mom" and hugged me. There were no words. Because in that exact moment I needed that so bad. He has walked with us through hard stuff. He's watched us fight through some things that I know hurt him so bad. And he was always there to offer advice, to sometimes bail us out, but to let us learn the same way that he did. He is my biggest fan. Always cheering me on. Even when he doesn't think it's the greatest idea.....he can see the light in my eyes when I'm excited or when I feel passionate and he fans the flame, in spite of his personal opinions. He sows into our kids just like he sows into us. All of them. Even when he thinks that collectively we have too many (wink wink). I could go on and on.....I won't. He knows. He knows that he holds this place in my heart. He knows that on Fathers Day we celebrate him, too. Thank you, Ron Nettles, for sowing into my life as if I were your daughter. I am forever grateful.
And then there's my #1. 9 years ago and 5 years ago and just under a year ago.......we found out we were going to be parents. Terror, excitement, more terror, and even more excitement each time. I remember every tiny detail of the physical pregnancies and the paper one and of all three "birthing" processes with Jake. He used to read to my belly every night when Cole was in utero. "I'll love you forever, I'll like you for always.......". We would giggle with delight every time Elton Johns "Tiny Dancer" came on and Cole would dance in my belly. Jake was fascinated with my Zella belly. She was a big girl in utero and she would shift her weight and wiggle her butt and it was so horrible and beautiful at the same time. He false labored with me for two weeks before she arrived. That's love, people. God spoke to Jake when we first began our adoption process and told him there was a 5 year old boy waiting in Ukraine for us. Jake, the once fatherless, going across the world to find this fatherless child, and sent their by his Heavenly Father. The emotion is overwhelming considering those things. That God designed this man to be the father of these 3 children, even in their different circumstances. He picked Jake to parent them and He hand picked Jake to lead and guide them. It's incredible to know that I am married to a man that God reveres so highly. There are so many incredible "Father" memories I have of Jake.......but here are my most favorite things: he's a total goofball. Our kids LOVE laughing with Daddy. He teaches them to be independent. He shows them the way things work and explains things and then lets them try (even when Mom is maybe freaking out a little). He encourages them. He's the best at telling them how awesome they are and highlighting the great things they do. He's a really great snuggle/wrestling buddy. Snuggling always evolves into wrestling. He is constantly trying to be a better dad. Our kids don't see this yet. They don't hear the agony in his voice when he makes a daddy mistake. But I see it. And it's one of his best qualities. The desire to be better, for them. The desire to give more, for them. The desire to always work on being a better Christian so he can be a better dad.......because that's why he was given this job in the first place. Our children are blessed to call you Daddy, Jacob Kubnick. Thank you for giving them the best of what you have to offer.
I could have been a statistic. Another kid with a deadbeat dad. But God blessed me with two men to parent me.....and then turned around and blessed me with an incredible man to parent our children. If I tried to count my blessings, I would never have a single breath to do anything else. Here's to the men in the world that are "manning up" and are actually fathering children.......not just producing them, but actually guiding them. Whether they are biological, adopted, step children, nieces or nephews, grandkids, whatever.....thank you. Thank you for doing what so many choose not to do. You are heros.
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