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A Father’s Guidance
My father had always been a quiet man leaving discipline and upbringing to my mother. Even though father never interfered with mother’s decisions, his presence and loving assurance was felt deeply by me.
My father left behind another legacy, his creativity. I acquired the artistic gifts from him. I remember when I was in my early twenties and had just started a bread dough doll business. The business was really booming, so much so that a representative from American Airlines asked me to make prototypes of a pilot and stewardess for their catalog. I was so excited I was beside myself. I worked diligently to produce a perfect sample and when I was satisfied I submitted them to the representative. While I waited for their response, my father suggested we create a plaster mold so that the dolls could be produced quickly and effectively.
I recall my father working side by side with me, forming the mold and testing it. After several weeks of trial and error we finally had a perfect mold for the product. All we needed now was the okay for production. A short time later I received the long-awaited call, but the news was not favorable. I was crushed because it was the first rejection of my work. My father, seeing my pain, assured me that it had nothing to do with me, it was just business. We never spoke of that day again and eventually the business faded out do to lack of demand.
A few years later I found another passion, helping children through the missions. I began sponsoring a little girl from Chickaballpur, India. We wrote to each other and she shared her hopes and dreams with me. Over a period of time, I became her source for medical help, education and encouragement. I had been sponsoring this child for a few years when I received an unexpected invitation in the mail. The agency that handled the child’s welfare was offering a sponsor visitation program. The program offered a trip to India to visit my little girl and the staff for several days. When I first received the news I dismissed it, convincing myself that going to a third world country alone would be insane, but the picture that sat on the dresser of my little girl smiling kept calling me to her side.
After receiving the invitation a series of events took place that could only be God-ordained. First, my church invited a missionary from India to speak on the plight of poor children in his country. As the preacher spoke, crocodile tears fell from my eyes without restraint. As I drove home from the service that night, I recall the moon illuminated the entire night sky giving me the feeling God was watching me. While waiting for a red light to change at an intersection I called out to God telling Him I was afraid to go, but it was His business if I fainted dead away every day while overseas. I felt satisfied with my conversation with God and put it out of my mind.
When I returned home, I went straight to my room to get ready for bed. As I was getting into bed I heard a knock at the bedroom door. It was my father. He sat down on the bed and said, “I think you should go to India. It’s a chance of a lifetime. If you want a father’s blessing, I give you mine.” A father’s blessing was exactly what I needed. I truly believe God the Father answered my prayers through my earthly father, confirming His favor on me for the journey.
I traveled to my little girl’s village a few months later in perfect peace. While there I hoped to leave behind God’s love and assurance for continued support, but what I found was a people willing to serve me, even in the midst of dire conditions.
Years later the impact of that journey still left its mark on my soul and at the prompting of a wonderful mentor I wrote a novel depicting a young woman’s journey of faith in a third world country entitled The Rich American Woman.
My father is home with the Lord now, but His spirit lives on in the story of my soul and the journey of faith that has brought me closer to God.
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