Trust The Process (One Day, Others Will Trust You)

 Denial. Anger. Sadness. Acceptance.

I'm certain these are stages of several processes, but this one applies to my most recent one. I was watching small clips of Will Smith's famous performance on Fresh Prince  when Will's father came into town (Season 4).  Will was so excited his father was visiting after leaving him 14 years prior. Uncle Phil was skeptical of Lou Smith (played by Ben Vereen) because he was aware of his reputation. The pure excitement of his son didn't overshadow the inevitable feeling things will go south beyond Will's expectations. Will Smith was ultimately disappointed after his father offered to have him ride along only to change his mind at the last second. Will dismissed his father as he left, unaware of when his father will return. As the episode progressed from beginning to end, you noticed the stages Will had undergone: Denial. Anger. Sadness. Acceptance. I will illustrate how these stages apply to the relationship between my father and I. 

Denial. 

I yearned to establish a relationship with my father since I was a little boy. The thought of his name sent electricity to my heart, increasing my desire to be in his presence. There was never a question of why he was never around, but when will I see him again. I heard we shared similarities in our physicality. I heard he was tall with large feet and a demanding presence. Once, my family and I met up with him at a gas station while he was in route via his truck-driving occupation. His voice is very distinctive and I can still remember it as a child. He asked us a few questions and we answered shyly. Mom stood beside us, making sure the exchange went well. Fast forward to my preteens. I finally take a trip with him along the Midwest, up towards North Dakota. I'm listening to him as he basically instructs me how to maneuver through life as a young man. The details of our conversations are vague, but I know I was always in the position of receiving what he had to give as a father. He was massive in statue and demeanor. He knew how to speak and make you believe. He couldn't do any wrong for a moment...until I experienced him in a different form. My expectations shattered before my eyes; broken glass in the form of heart ache, seeing a version of him I didn't want to believe existed.

Anger.

It started in high school. I wanted nothing to do with him. When he called, my answers were short and direct. At this point, I was hearing from him once a month, if not every two. I could tell when his call came through based on how Mama answered the phone. "CJ, it's your dad" is what I would hear while playing my N64 or simply playing basketball in the front yard. I recall specifically contacting him to complain about his lack of effort towards my older sister. She graduated high school and was attending college...working 2-3 jobs. She needed help and he wasn't contributing in the least. I was fed up, enriched with rage, eager to douse his feelings with gasoline and light them with a verbal fire. He was going to be the recipient of every stone from my proverbial slingshot, for I declared him to be my Goliath. While playing basketball once during the weekend of my high school graduation, I blocked his shot. I watched him fall due to the misdistribution of his weight. I didn't help him up. I stepped over him like Iverson did Tyronn Lue in 2001. Proceeding to the street, crying, I repeated, "you bastard" as my friends came over to check on me. Dad and I argued in the car and we made up later. This process would repeat all the way into adulthood. 

Sadness.

My father and I get into a disagreement when it comes to religion. Not truth, but religion. They are two separate things. One requires knowledge...while the other requires knowledge and application. The cycle repeats as followed: Laugh. Disagree. Argue. Retract. Revisit. This is not healthy for those who assume it is. It only causes more toxicity, straining the relationship one conversation at a time. The disagreement was followed by him hanging up on me. I was attempting to explain my point of view as he proceeded to over talk me. I stated, "If you are going to continue to over talk me, I am going to hang up." "Well hang up then!" was his response. We haven't spoken to each other since. It dawned on me that by him choosing to let me hang up (even though he beat me to it), he was choosing to not listen to my point of view. I'm thirty-five-years-old, heartbroken that my father hung up on his son, repeating a pattern that has existed since I was a young boy. Later, it brought tears to my eyes that we are still fighting, still hanging up the phone. This is our relationship. It will never change. That's why I have to do so. 

Acceptance.

My father didn't raise me. My mother raised me. My sisters raised me. Other people who stepped into my life made their contribution towards my growth. God supplied me with everything I needed in order to grow into a man I was destined to become. My father is my father. God is specifically fond of him. He loves him dearly with an undying degree of affection. No one can match that. Since childhood, I wanted a specific relationship. I wanted to play sports with him and receive his encouragement when I felt insecure. I wanted to turn next to him in church and witness him listening to the pastor opposed to only experiencing this with my mom. Imagine if he could have attended my baseball games and took me to see NBA and MLB games in the 90s. That's not what happened...and it never will. My dad will never meet my expectations and I will never adhere to his. We will disappoint each other...because we're human and not God. That is inevitable. That is what I accept. I also accept personal boundaries for the benefit of my wellness. I love my father and care much about him, but I also value my health and that of my family. Being husband means I cleave to my wife post separation from my parents (Mark 10:7).

I wish not to paint my father as some bad guy. Everyone makes decisions that affect someone else. I am someone's villain. Somewhere, someone is not looking forward to seeing me or hearing my voice. They dread their interaction with me...and I have to be okay with that. They must do what's best for them, even if it means limiting contact with me. I use to be a huge people pleaser, but people have no stake in my purpose. People do not dictate the steps of my plans or the blueprint of my life. They are resources, not the source. This is what I experienced. I am the result of all this fighting and misunderstanding. I don't know where things are headed from here, but I'm certain I will no longer tolerate my lack of self-care. I will no longer feed into the destruction of a relationship. I must be a light, I must be salt of the earth, preserving all that is good and holy. If there's anything you can take from this, please remember how important the relationship is with anyone. If it's causing more harm than hope, evade, collect your feelings, and focus on all that is pure, all that is holy, all that is praiseworthy (Philippians 4:8).  

Some day, someone is going to ask you about your process. They're going to ask, "How did you do it?" You can simply tell them your steps and how you came out the other side. That will be your testimony. It will be the push someone needs to either do the same or do what's best for them. Trust the process, for one day, someone will trust you...with theirs.