I was really thinking about my father's love. Well my biological one not my spiritual one. I can talk about my spiritual father all day but my biological hmmm all of my memories involve "counting".
My first memory with my dad starts with a white and light blue striped bike with a basket filled of pennies. I was so excited when I got it cause while I was "counting" the pennies, my mother was arguing with him about where he got the bike from.
Of course my dad didn't buy it...he got it through his illegimate dealings from what I gathered listening to their conversations. I got a bike from my daddy who I had just met and didn't even know exist cause I was told that he was dead. He seemed nice to me so I rode the bike filled with pennies.
The next time I would see my father, I do believe I was 6 or 7, he invited me to his new form of employment, a local bodega. I became a cashier with Maria, the owner. I was instantly loved by Maria cause at 6, I could "count" and give exact change. Actually better than Maria and many of the customers were a bit shocked that I didn't need a calculator. I was well-known in the store and I used to wonder why some customers never returned from their one-way visits to the bodega. I never asked my father cause I was just too excited that we were spending time. But one day, I brought it to my mother's attention that Maria was arguing with a customer who didn't appear too well to me. And some other man came out from the back. I never saw him before and he was talking in Spanish.
Little did they know I understood Spanish enough to know that money was involved and "counting" cash properly was a part of that conversation.
Well after that, I saw him every so often when my mother would allow it.
Our next encounter with my dad would be my 16th birthday party where I went from being a normal kid to very well-known in HS as well as in my neighborhood. He was invited to help cook and be a part of the best and worst day of my life.
My house was so packed with folks I had never met and I told by my mother to reduce the "amount" of folks or she was shutting it down. My dad turned on the lights (bad right) and asked me to "count" out the folks I didn't know. As folks tried to hide behind chairs so that they could stay, my dad told the DJ to stop the music. He smelled something which he knew better that the rest of us didn't belong at his daughter's b-day party. He went thru everyone's pockets like cop and the party ended right afterwards.
Although, everyone said that was the BEST party they had ever went to. I was mortified by his sudden parental ability.
But in those memories of my dad, my spiritual Father, Jesus was always "counted" for and always present.
He protected me when I was riding my bike and a car almost hit me, he was protecting me every time I was working in the bodega in which two shootings happened after I left with my dad to go home , and when someone threw a garbage can at my doorsteps at my 16th birthday party.
Jesus was there for all of my birthdays, all of my A's on my report card, during my studying for standardized tests, when I skipped a grade and got depressed at 12 because I had low grades (86) lol
My first memory with my dad starts with a white and light blue striped bike with a basket filled of pennies. I was so excited when I got it cause while I was "counting" the pennies, my mother was arguing with him about where he got the bike from.
Of course my dad didn't buy it...he got it through his illegimate dealings from what I gathered listening to their conversations. I got a bike from my daddy who I had just met and didn't even know exist cause I was told that he was dead. He seemed nice to me so I rode the bike filled with pennies.
The next time I would see my father, I do believe I was 6 or 7, he invited me to his new form of employment, a local bodega. I became a cashier with Maria, the owner. I was instantly loved by Maria cause at 6, I could "count" and give exact change. Actually better than Maria and many of the customers were a bit shocked that I didn't need a calculator. I was well-known in the store and I used to wonder why some customers never returned from their one-way visits to the bodega. I never asked my father cause I was just too excited that we were spending time. But one day, I brought it to my mother's attention that Maria was arguing with a customer who didn't appear too well to me. And some other man came out from the back. I never saw him before and he was talking in Spanish.
Little did they know I understood Spanish enough to know that money was involved and "counting" cash properly was a part of that conversation.
Well after that, I saw him every so often when my mother would allow it.
Our next encounter with my dad would be my 16th birthday party where I went from being a normal kid to very well-known in HS as well as in my neighborhood. He was invited to help cook and be a part of the best and worst day of my life.
My house was so packed with folks I had never met and I told by my mother to reduce the "amount" of folks or she was shutting it down. My dad turned on the lights (bad right) and asked me to "count" out the folks I didn't know. As folks tried to hide behind chairs so that they could stay, my dad told the DJ to stop the music. He smelled something which he knew better that the rest of us didn't belong at his daughter's b-day party. He went thru everyone's pockets like cop and the party ended right afterwards.
Although, everyone said that was the BEST party they had ever went to. I was mortified by his sudden parental ability.
But in those memories of my dad, my spiritual Father, Jesus was always "counted" for and always present.
He protected me when I was riding my bike and a car almost hit me, he was protecting me every time I was working in the bodega in which two shootings happened after I left with my dad to go home , and when someone threw a garbage can at my doorsteps at my 16th birthday party.
Jesus was there for all of my birthdays, all of my A's on my report card, during my studying for standardized tests, when I skipped a grade and got depressed at 12 because I had low grades (86) lol
He was always there
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