My papa…..no, this is not about
the Holy Pope, this is about MY PAPA. With
all the media hoopla over our new Pope, it is understandable that Catholics and even non Catholis are
rejoicing over the election of our spiritual father. I can’t help but think
that in one week’s time or less they will be crushing him to death, as our
media does with their “celebrity of the minute”. However, as Christians we understand that this
man, chosen to be our Pope, leader of over 1 billion Catholics, but also a spiritual leader for all humanity (as Vicar of Christ) is human; we are aware that God always calls us
out of ourselves to serve others. We are
blessed that this new Pope said yes and he deserves our prayers, as he so
humbly asked for, as he appeared on the balcony and looked upon many of his family gathered around him in St. Peter’s Square.
As I have watched and shared the
news since Wednesday I can’t help but also think of my own Papa. One reason is that many have shared how much
the new Pope looks like my dad (which is quite funny, he kind of does) but more
striking for me is that the way the Pope came out on the balcony in simple
fashion, without some of the regalia of bygone Popes, that side of him does remind
me of my own father.
We all have biological fathers
and if we are blessed we also have spiritual fathers who shaped us and were examples for
us. No father is perfect, none of us are.
Jesus said only our Father in Heaven is perfect. (Which is what he meant
when he also said don’t call anyone else ‘Father’, he was referring to the
perfect Father.) So although we know we can’t be perfect, we are all called to
be holy and my father represents for me many qualities that I would say qualify
him for sainthood. I would like to tell you why.
My dad is the opposite of
my mom in some ways. He is reserved, yet
he is not afraid to speak what’s on his mind.
With my dad, you always know where you stand with him. He is forgiving; often times I hear him
humbly apologize to my mom, or others, for speaking without listening, for
example.
My dad made mistakes as we grew
up, but he never gave up trying. He
bravely took us out of a country that had become inhumanely restricted in natural freedoms. He cut himself from his roots, he left behind a family and a country he loved and he created a new home for us in a new
country. Having had a profession, a college graduate, in this country he found and worked menial jobs, lowpaying jobs, working odd hours. He learned a new language and new customs. He invited others in our home to share what
little we had. He was always sending
what little money we had to missions (especially to Native American missions
here). He worked overtime to send money, clothing and medicines to our family overseas,
in Cuba and Spain. In my dad I always
saw a spirit of service to others.
Now, did I say that my dad is not
perfect? He had a temper and he was strict, with a capital S. I respected him and feared him as a young
teen. He held me up to high standards. I
did not want to make him mad, because I knew my punishment would be to be grounded
for life, with no chance of parole. I would try to build up my alliances in
the family, but everyone knew that when my dad spoke, his word was law. He did not allow me to wear make up until I
was 13 ½ ….what? Dad, just lip-gloss? I was convinced I had the meanest dad in
the world! I couldn’t go anywhere with my friends without an adult chaperone….what? Dad, we’re just going to a football
game! Yes, definitely the meanest dad!
Yet today, I am grateful because
I see that what he did for me was to protect me from the world at a time when I
would easily be swayed by the luring attraction of rebellion. I think he knew that I loved rebellion, but I
feared my dad more. So, I followed his
rules (most of the time!) and when I didn’t, I could be found in my bed room
without a phone, without friends, just me and my Teen Magazines that would just
add to my misery as I would dream about all the cool things I could be doing
with my cool friends wearing cool clothes.
That was what was important to me during my early teens.
My dad’s goal for me was to keep
my heart pure, stay healthy, develop my mind, and be nice to my grandparents. (Let me also confess
here that I was not easy to live with as a teen, a handful, the most melodramatic teen, I know now because I go
back and read my diaries and you would think I lived in total misery).
Eventually, I matured and I
went away to college to study artchitecture and design at the University of Florida. (One has to
understand what a big leap in faith this was for my dad.) My parents at first were totally dead set
against my leaving, but they realized that as an adult that this was a decision
I now had to make. When I left for Gainesville
my dad gave me a small statue of the Virgin Mary. It was simple and lovely work of art, all
white porcelain, and it stood on my dresser drawer throughout my years away. It reminded me of my dad’s faith in me and in
our Lord. He knew that Our Lord and our holy mother would watch over me, when he wouldn’t be around to do so
anymore. I still have that statue, and I
cherish it because it reminds me of my dad’s love for me. He loved me and trusted in me and my future enough to let
me go.
Now, in our later years, my dad
is much more sentimental than he was when I was young. I saw him care for each
of my four grandparents until they passed away in his and mom’s care. I see him care for my mother now as they get
older, I see him care for his grandchildren, I see him still worry for my
brother and I. I also see him more in prayer.
I see him trust in God more, I see him in a process of conversion that
says to me….we are all works in progress. He did the best he could as a man, and
I am so thankful that when God called him to be a father to me and my brother
he said “yes”. I think this is what it
means to be a father, to say yes to God, and then allow God’s grace to
transform us so we can be more than we think we are capable of. My dad was called to serve his family; he did
and he continues to serve us well, not perfect, but really well!! My father loves me. I am proud to say he is my spiritual and Holy Papa!!!
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