My father passed away on my birthday. It’s always a little bittersweet – his passing and my living.

He was a complex man, which made our relationship challenging. Don’t get me wrong, I loved him dearly. But admittedly, there was a part of me that was also intimidated by him.

It’s not that he had an overpowering presence or that he ever raised his hand to me. But he had a smoldering temper. It lay just beneath the surface of his poised persona, and I never wanted to be the cause of it erupting.

I remember, as a child, playing the role of the obedient, good girl. I expressed no thoughts or opinions of my own. Instead, I mirrored his image, hoping to avoid any emotions that may trigger his anger.

That approach worked until it couldn’t anymore. I grew up. Daddy’s little girl was gone, and with each teenage and young adult encounter, I learned new strategies to assure the peace. My plan mimicked that little girl’s – work to appease him, earn his approval, and steer clear of anything that might cause tension.

Here is the funny thing: although I felt anxious around my dad, I loved being with him. He taught me the fine art of carpentry, how to grow a garden before store-bought compost and organic fertilizers were a thing, and he shared with me his love for stir-fry everything. Our hours spent together didn’t include a lot of talking; it was enough just to be together.

Time mellowed him. The loss of my mother broke him, and his temper slowly softened, perhaps transformed, by an ever-growing faith in Christ. Perhaps because he realized all the harsh tones offered no lasting resolution. With time, I learned to admire my dad, and I came to respect his quiet strength.

When I turned 34, my father released me from all the boundaries I had built to frame our relationship. With his passing, he left me a priceless gift — an incredible example of how God enters our brokenness and brings change. His walk with Christ had changed him, not perfect, but at peace. Not flawless but surrendered.

"My old self has been crucified with Christ. It is no longer I who live, but Christ lives in me. So I live in this earthly body by trusting in the Son of God, who loved me and gave himself for me."

Galatians 2:20

I think of my father often—I still have his favorite cap and denim jacket. And occasionally, when I hold them close, I can get the faint smell of the tobacco he chewed mixed with fresh soil and just a hint of sawdust. I can see his smile and hear his voice, and as the years pass, the memories I carry are shifting from the man with the smoldering temper to a man transformed by his faith. And it is that example that encourages me to grow my own faith and trust in God.

Just as the verse in Galatians shares, I am a new creation in Christ. And this newness allows me to live beyond my old defense mechanisms. My faith overcomes my feeble human attempts to shield myself from disappointment and pain. I choose, as my father did, to allow God to work through my old ways and thoughts to give me new life.

I hope that as you reflect on your past and how it has influenced you, you can see God’s love working to make you new. He can take your brokenness and turn it into a priceless gift.

I hope you remember you are deeply loved by your Father.

Be Blessed,

In memory of my dad, Alvin T. Willis (11/19/18 – 2/3/92) 
Dad, I miss you. Thank you for what you taught me in life and death.