Good Dads

I was thinking about my first year of teaching. On one of my first days ever as a teacher, one of my little girls, T, was crying at dismissal. I bent down and asked her what happened. Another teacher came up to me and said, "Oh, Gesch, don't worry about it, she always cries at dismissal because one day last year nobody came to pick her up after school," kind of in a nonchalant, it-is-what-it-is type of way. I was kind of shocked that someone thought it was no big deal that a 7-year-old was crying for this traumatic reason, but it's an attitude I came across often: brushing off the real emotions of children. I don't say this as an offense to the heart of my coworkers; on the contrary, many of my coworkers in East Garfield Park were some of the most amazing individuals with the biggest hearts for kids I've ever met. More so, it's a comment on the intensity of life in my old school's neighborhood: if you got worked up every time a kid got a little worked up, you'd be burned out by Thursday. And you have to last all year. A few people didn't even last all year. But there was T anyway, tears streaming down her (beautiful - and I mean that - she really is a beautiful kid) face. And I started to think about that.

As it turns out, she was supposed to be picked up by her dad that night. Perhaps it was a miscommunication, maybe it was an innocent mistake between her mother and father in a game of phone tag about who was picking up T that night. I don't think her parents were terrible people, just people who had a lot on their plate and were capable of making mistakes, just like I am. I don't know all the details of why, exactly, she was forgotten. Being left at school was a watershed experience for T, as she continued to cry at dismissal every single day after school for the first few months of school. We would get into the routine of me hugging her for basically the whole time until someone picked her up. She wasn't forgotten today, whew. She could wipe her tears. Crisis averted.

It made me think of our world, and how mistakes, large or small, may be seemingly insignificant to us adults, but how deeply real they are to kids. It makes me think of kids like T, who was picked up at the end of a long 4 hours at a police station, 8:00 pm on a school night instead of the usual 4:00 pm, horrified that nobody was coming to get her, so uncertain of what was going to happen to her, defenseless against anything.

My dad. 

As I go on through this third year of teaching, I am, ever so slowly, sussing out what the last two years of my life have really meant. I'm just now starting to process the impact that my experience with Teach For America left on my heart. A lot of it, to be honest, is depressing to rehash and think through in hindsight. I think of T and how she buried her wet cheeks into my leg while I stood on the lookout for her car. I think of how she was afraid that her dad forgot about her. I think of dads in general and how rare it is to have a Good Dad in our world, to have a dad of character, who is there for you, who always comes through. I think of my dad and of Brian's dad, and how good they are, and how lucky we are to have them. It makes me despair a little bit that dads like ours are so rare, that so many in this world go without a Good Dad. It all gives me a shot of pessimism toward our world's future.

Then, I zoom out and get a little historical perspective on how my own dad came to be the person he is. He also came from a Good Dad, my Grandpa Gesch. A hardworking, strict, hilarious, intelligent, kind, principled, faithful man of integrity. An example. A Christian leader. That's who my Grandpa is. Where did my Grandpa learn to be all of those things? By watching his own father? Actually, not at all. I never met him, but I hear that his dad was a little bit of a tough dude. In an effort to avoid slandering my own ancestors, let me just say that my great-grandfather, my Grandpa's dad, was not setting forth a loving Christian example and leave it at that. And yet, God intervened anyway, and he grew up little Wilfred Gesch to be a leader, a teacher, a believer, a father, and the patriarch of a large faithful family of Christ-followers. It's amazing how good of a dad he has become. He didn't learn it through an earthly example. He learned to be a Good Dad through following the person of Jesus Christ, setting forth a chain of events leading to an immense impact on his (massive) family. I know that my Good Dad wouldn't be who he is without the influence of his own father. It is a beautiful cycle of God's love sent down through generations by the means of  Providence and Faithfulness and the mysterious work of the Holy Spirit. It is a beautiful testimony, my family.

So what does some German guy have to do with T, crying on the sidewalk, waiting for her dad to pick her up? These intersecting stories in my life give me a small dose of optimism; they point me to a larger picture of what is possible and the Hope we have in this dark world for progress, love, and redemption. My Grandpa Gesch didn't need a Good Dad on earth to understand how to be one himself. T doesn't need to wait for a Good Dad to come around. She doesn't need to have a perfect earthly example in her life to make the choice to begin something new in her own life, in her own family.

The truth is that T already has a Good Dad. He is of the heavenly sort, who already shows up and comes through when he says He will and will be faithful to His word. We all, T included, have access to this dad who will be consistent to His promises, true to what He says He will do, even if the earth gives way and the mountains fall into the heart of the sea. This heavenly father is the kind of Good Dad who comes down to fill in the voids that human parents tend to leave conspicuously wide open. In a world full of imperfect dads and moms, it is beautiful to think of that.

So whether you have a bad dad, a mediocre dad, a good dad, or maybe even a dad who is gone from this earth, I'm sure you will be confronting that situation soon over the holidays. Family gatherings have a way of making us come to terms with our own dad and mom situation. Maybe it will be a happy time, but perhaps it will be difficult or even sad for you to think about the impact (or lack thereof) your dad has had on your life. Whatever that situation may be, perhaps it might help to think of T, and to know that you are not alone in shedding a tear or two. I hope that you and I can remember the Good Dad we all share who is faithful to us: a refuge, a strength, and an always-present help in trouble.