Blog 34: The LOVE Series (Part 2) —Until I held You in my Arms … Then I Understood

Growing up, my dad and I were never really close.

It may have been a generational thing mixed with a Northern Irish upbringing. Affection was never shown. It was still the days of the stiff upper lip. The day’s of empire was over, but the vestiges remained.

My grand father was never close to his children or showed any affection that I remember, so I imagine my dad learnt his relational skills from his father.

Pappy and I were never close. He was a severe and distant grandfather. He was also the only grandfather I ever knew, Mum’s dad had drowned on the farm long before I was born so I never had the opportunity to know him.

I longed to be close to my father, to have some affection shown to me, but that never happened. Dad was strict, with a quick Irish temper. Dad was someone to fear rather than love.

I thought all fathers were like that, I didn’t have anyone to compare him to.

So when Jesus referred to God as his heavenly father, I transferred dad’s attributes to God. I did’t know any better.

To me God was loving in a stern, distant kind of way. Perhaps you can relate to this!

Time changed my preconceptions of God. Little by little, His warmth and caring warmed my sceptical heart.

Could God be the father I longed for, the father who would affirm me, who actually liked me and wanted to share my every waking moment?

I didn’t think so.

Although he was my Heavenly Father, he was someone to be revered and respected. But could he have a laugh? Could he enjoy the craic, as they say it in Ireland?

Did Abba really mean daddy? Was Jesus calling his father, Father, or was He calling Him Daddy, or dad?

That was a bridge too far … until the day I met you.

First children have a reputation for being late so Dr Roger, didn’t seem concerned, but after a couple of weeks without any signs of you wanting to arrive, he decided it best to help you along!

Your mum arrived in the labor ward, had an intra venous drip inserted into her arm. The midwife placed a monitor on her tummy to measure your heart beat.

Without warning the monitor screeched, Your heart rate had plummeted. This was serious.

Fortunately Dr ‘Johnny’ Jeffares, (JJ), a respected obstetrician and gynaecologist was nearby.

An emergency Caesarean was the only way we could save you life.

Mum was rushed to theatre, the doctors scrubbed and I put on a set of scrubs along with a red paper hat. Still unaware how seriousness of the situation was I had my camera and was happily clicking away. I wanted to remember and record everything.

‘Sit there!’ commanded the orderly. I sat.

‘Ready?’

The anaesthetist responded and your mum was unconscious in seconds.

Cut—JJ was working frantically, he had to deliver you quickly … You could have died.

You were eased into the world a couple of minutes later, eyes closed and a mass of black hair plastered to your little head. The midwife cleared your nose and mouth.

Time held it’s breath …

A tiny whimper answered the unasked question. You were alive?

‘Meet your son, Rod.’

Before you were rushed away, wrapped in bubble wrap and placed under a heat lamp to warm you, I held you in my arms.