My Dad Made A Way

New York City has hard memories for me.  

For most people, thoughts of Times Square include The Ball dropping on New Year’s Eve, images of Broadway shows, Greenwich Village and endless shopping.  The crowded bustling streets and the energy of city life are exciting and fun.  To them, New York City is the epitome of culture and coolness.   

Not for me.  It’s not that there is anything inherently wrong with the city.  It’s just that as a 19 year old I got duped by a pimp.  Yes, you read that right. The word pimp is being used differently by kids these days, but in the seventies it meant: a man who controls prostitutes and arranges clients for them, taking part of their earnings in return.  Only in my case it was all earnings.

Of course, I wasn’t a prostitute when I met the guy.  Who in their right mind would want to become such a thing?  No, I was a post-abortive, seriously depressed, completely empty of hope, hollow shell of a girl who needed male attention like a drug addict desperate for their next fix.  

How could I have needed affirmation so much?  What combination of life events would set in motion the self destructive path I had found myself on?  The one thing I know is that I am responsible for some pretty stupid choices in my life.  But I’m not really telling that story right now.  I want to brag a little bit about my father.

The fact that I ran away to New York City with a pimp at age 19 certainly indicates that I didn’t have a rock solid relationship with my dad, but it didn’t start that way. My earliest little girl memories are of  balancing on his feet so I could dance with him.  He would sing snippets of “Daddy’s Little Girl” along with the recording of his favorite group, the Mills Brothers.  In those early moments with him I felt cherished and special. 

 Once I remember sitting on the closed toilet seat watching him shave.

 “I love you Daddy!”

“I love you, too, dear.”

“I love you MORE!”

“Oh, no you dont….”  he would chuckle.

“Yes I do!”

And the argument would continue for a while.  My children will tell you that to this day I say, “Love you more!”  It all started back there with my daddy as an innocent little pre-schooler.  

It is ingrained in the heart of a child to hold their parents in high esteem.  A blank slate presents itself, and with the utmost of care, parents must be careful what they write there.  

My dad embedded himself deeply into my heart, and I’m so glad.  Life took some hard turns as I grew up, and he came crashing down from that pedestal. Growing up in our family of six, I often felt confused and alone, navigating through emotional land mines not of my making.

The main purpose of this post is to tell you something my father did right.  When I called from a phone booth in New York City, he made a way for me to come home.

Wow.  I suppose any loving father would do it, but I’m talking about me and my father.  I was a lost girl who was breaking his heart.  He knew I was there somewhere and he knew what I was doing.  He must have felt powerless and afraid.  There were no cell phones with the constant communication they now provide.  His daughter was lost amidst the sea of people in Manhattan.

The adrenalin must have surged through him when he heard my trembling voice, knowing that if I hung up it could be forever.  He quickly told me to be at a certain corner at a certain time. It must have been humbling, calling  someone and asking them to go to a street corner to pick up his runaway daughter. “Would you mind taking her to JFK and putting her on a plane home?”  Ya, just a little hard.  But the point here is that he did it.  

On his deathbed I thanked my dad for letting me dance on his feet, and I thanked him for getting me home from the hell I had lived through on the streets of New York.  He never threw any of those weeks in my face.  Sounds like God, doesn’t it?  Not denial, but forgiveness.  It was like it had never happened.   Though coming home wasn’t the end of those bad choices in my life, it was the beginning of the end. 

Thanks for making a way, Dad.   

                      "As a father has compassion on his children, so the LORD.........."