One day, it occurred to me how great it would be to finally have a father. I wondered what it would feel like to finally experience the joy that the girls in the movies did when their father held them when they were sad or joked with them when they were happy. I had listened to the other girls in my class talk about their dads and how much they hated it when they poked their noses into what was none of their business, but they spoke with most loving, adoring voice I’ve ever heard; quietly, I had sat in my chair, not saying a word, while the sadness crept into my thoughts, and I wondered why I did not have a father. I wondered why my mother, wherever she is, would leave me without any answers whatsoever. Then, I wondered whether or not he actually cared about me. He may not even know I exist, yes, I realize that; but, what if he does, and he just doesn’t care. The very thought broke my heart. I have no idea what it’s like to have a father who loves you, and my deepest fear is that he does not love me or want me. One day, I was thinking about how great it would be to finally have a father, and I broke down in silent, hopeless tears.

Another day, I sat in my theology class and listened to the professor lecture on God’s will. Honestly, I cannot put into words the pain which accompanied the idea that God had planned this for my life. After the lecture, my professor engaged the class in a discussion; for the first time in weeks, I did not participate. Instead, I sat back in my chair and tried not to cry; there is nothing I hate more than displaying my emotions to the world. Still, I listened, and I realized something; I realized that God has planned a whole life for me, during which He has given me numerous blessings and has more to reveal in the future. I realized that by questioning, by challenging God’s will, I was hurting no one but myself. Even now, thinking that at one point I’d had such thoughts makes me want to hide in some hole somewhere and let the tears take me. Listening to my professor’s lecture and the class’s discussion, I realized that in my heart, all I wanted was to know my father. I did not hate him, or love him, or even worry about him; in truth, I just wanted to know him. That was when it finally clicked; I knew my father, and I know my father. My Father had provided me with a loving, caring mother, a silly, funny little brother, a roof over my head, clothes, food, a computer, a television, tuition for school, food, an aunt, a cousin, more cousins, and the best friends I could ever imagine having; He had done all this for me, and here I was, wishing that I knew him and searching for him in all the wrong places. The truth is, I know my Father; He watches over me from Heaven. My Father has taken care of me in so many ways and loves me unconditionally; I know for a fact that my Father will never abandon me, and, by His will, by the Holy Spirit, I will live long enough to show Him that I am eternally thankful for His presence in my life. God my Father and Christ my Lord and Saviour have given me everything I could ever hope for; they have given me life and will love me far beyond the end of time.Yes, I think it goes without saying, I love my Father.