A very long time ago, I was a young girl living on a farm in rural Delaware sobbing into the pine shacks that covered the floor of Redden State Forrest, desperate for a father’s love. My memories carry me back to that time and I recall the longing I felt and the anger I experienced when I discovered that my family had denied me the right to know my dad. I had spent my childhood dreaming of my dad and I was completely crushed the day I found out that they had thrown away all the letters that he was sending me. It was the drunken revelation of a sister-in-law that brought this information to light. As she handed me that first letter, the tears of anger, bitterness and rage began to flow; tears for what they had done, tears for all the wasted years, tears because I had to finally face the reality of who my father was.

So as I lay there on the pine shacks, reading his letter, the dream father I had created in my mind dissipated, leaving behind the cold hard facts. My dad was in prison and I was his daughter. You see, my father had spent the majority of his life and mine locked up behind bars. As far back as I can remember, I was informed that he was a murderer and I was his spitting image in every way. But reading his words, I soon discovered that there was one glaring difference between us that became evident with every letter my sister-in-law would sneak my way, my father knew God. My dad, who had to lose everything to gain it all, prayed for my freedom from the enemy of my soul while locked behind the walls of a maximum security prison. Without fail, he signed every letter, “I’m praying for you, your Daddy.”

Many years have passed since then. I have committed my life to Christ and know Him as my Lord and Savior. My dad was released from prison, he remarried a beautiful Christian woman, they raised a loving family, and he continued to pray for me everyday until he passed away on March 8, 2001. Whenever the enemy of my soul begins to accuse me of my faults and weaknesses, and remind me of the voices from yesterday that tried to curse me by telling me that I am just like my father, I remind him of the amazing grace God has shown to me because of the continual prayers of a guilty man who sought redemption for himself and salvation for his family.

I Corinthians 15:10 says: But by the grace of God I am what I am: and his grace which was bestowed upon me was not in vain; but I laboured more abundantly than they all: yet not I, but the grace of God which was with me.

When I read that scripture, I can’t help but think of both my Fathers, my natural father who never ceased praying for me and my Heavenly Father who answered him.

Thank you daddy.