Today is Father’s Day. Zach decided he wanted to have a BBQ with our fathers. My dad has peeved me. I think I’ve been around him for far too long the past couple of days and I’m just wearing thin.
My sister just came back from Vietnam and Thailand. She ate some pretty nasty stuff, I’ve already heard some of it from my father, but really I don’t care to know. I’d love to hear about her trip, but I don’t think I have to hear all about the gross food right now. Last night we had dinner with them and Dad insisted on asking Stacy to talk about the food. I didn’t want to hear and said such. Stacy seemed really tired and didn’t jump on the opportunity to talk about food. Anyway, tonight after dinner Dad tries to bring it up again. We are all having a nice conversation and he is like “Jenn, would you eat any of the food Stacy had to eat.” I should have said, “No, I’m pregnant and frankly the idea makes me want to puke.” But instead I said I hadn’t heard about the stories and didn’t really want to now as I was feeling a little queasy. ” He said when will be a good time to tell you…not when we are eating not after, when?” I said I didn’t know that I just didn’t feel like hearing it and he said bitterly “I was just being Jennifer.” We didn’t talk the rest of the night. I’m tired of my dad dominating the conversation. I’m tired of him throwing his holier than thou attitude in things. I’m tired of him comparing everything I say to something that isn’t the same in my sister’s life or his, because they are better.
I didn’t get to tell Dad I was pregnant because God told him and he so rudily related that to me as I was tiring to tell him I was pregnant. We do not want to know the sex of the baby until the baby is born, but since God told Dad it is a boy he proudly announces it to everyone. I feel a little guilty because I’m mad if it is a boy. I’m mad because Dad ruined it the first month in. But then I’m mad at myself for letting my dad control me. A church down the way has a sign on their board that says “He who angers you, controls you.” Hmm….I don’t want to be controlled by my dad, but he pushes my every button.
The tonight we are eating dinner (and Ron is over too and having back problems) and my dad says (because he is done and bored) “Should we pray for Ron and lay hands on him?” I don’t have a problem praying for Ron, and I think it would have been a good thing, but I believe you should always ask for permission to pray for someone, especially if you are going to lay hands on them. You don’t ask the people around you if they think you should and pressure the person into receiving prayer. None of us responded. I don’t think we knew what to say. I’m sure that irritated my dad, just like it makes him mad that we don’t pray before dinner. I don’t like the judgment that follows if we pray. Dad is full of judgment and frankly I’d rather be judged for being me than to be judged for doing thing just for him and why should I do things for him? Is he God? I haven’t gone to the same church as my father for a long time because of this judgment. He constantly talks about how others don’t allow the Holy Spirit to flow or this or that. One of the last times we went to church together the pastor told everyone to raise they’re hands. I wasn’t feeling it and didn’t and I got reprimanded for not following directions. But I was just moving in my own connection with God, not the one the pastor or my father wanted me to follow at that moment in time. Since then I’ve avoided going to church with Dad. I don’t want to be pressured into things, I don’t want to be self-conscience at church. I want to worship in MY way. I want to fellowship with others that understand that I am me and I may be different than them and that is okay.
Okay, this was rambly and now I’m about to cry, so thanks for listening. I feel a bit better. G’Night.