Father's Day

So this being Father's Day today our pastor spoke on fathers and the importance they play in raising children. This evening I get a call from my dad and he tells me that he wants me to tell him what he did right and what he did wrong in raising myself and my sister. That sounds like such a noble thing, but I am dreading having to tell him these things. I had a good father. He was. He did have some major faults though. I come from a Middle Eastern family and with that comes certain things: a tendency to have way to much food at every possible celebration, being constantly loud, being stubborn as a mules and having volital tempers. What I am about to say is truthful but comes with explanation. My dad was physically abusive. I say that, but I feel the need to clarify. My dad would hit, slap, shove and kick us when his anger took control of him. This was not a result of alcoholism, just lack of self-control. It did not happen every day or even every week, but that does not lessen the damage that was done. Yes, my dad was abusive, however, I know that so many others suffer so much worse. I have realized though, that the damage he did to me went so far beyond just the bruises. I distinctly remember several different things that where all turning points for me: 1) when I was in elementary school my dad taught Sunday School at our church. One Sunday he lost his temper at one of the kids in his classe and grabbed him by the arm and shoved him to the ground. My dad was not allowed to teach after that incident. What struck me was the fact that not one person had the guts to say "hey, if he is doing this at church, what is he doing at home?" How much more obvious does it need to be that there is problems in this home. I remember at the young age to not depend or trust people in the church. 2) When I was in Junior High somehow my mom convinced my dad to go to couples and family counseling. We spent a year in counseling as a family and my dad cried and apoligized and I truly believed that it was over. Then he hit me again. That is the day I made the decision that I would not only never forgive or trust him again, but that I would never love him. From that day on I continued to grow more and more bitter towards him. I refused to give him father's day cards and would never tell him I loved him. I wrote him off. I must say, that had an awful lot to do with my behavior in high school. I hated my dad and would do anything to spite him, humiliate him, disrespect him or hurt him in any way. I went away after to school to a strict Bible school. It was a thirteen hour drive and I cried the majority of the way there. I cried because I absolutely did not want to go, but I knew that if I didn't my life would literally end in ruins. I knew the path I was on was going to destroy me. Being that far from home offered some relief in my relationship with my dad. After two years there, I began to realize that I needed to forgive him. I wasn't ready to do that yet, but I acknowledged that I needed to. I started sending him father's day cards again but I would never sign them "Love, . . . " Years later I finally came to a place where I could finally forgive him. 3) the most recent turning point just came a year ago. I had forgiven my father, but our relationship was still strained at best. His age and health had started to mellow him a bit and we got along okay as long as he didn't get to controling. anyway, last summer myself, my kids and my parents where heading out to a local festival. I was driving and my dad was in the passenger seat. He is a horrible back seat driver. It doesn't matter who it is, they are never driving right. (He can no longer drive due to health conditions) He was growing more and more upset with me for not going fast enough or slow enough or not pulling out when he thought I should. His temper finally got the best of him and he hauled off and punched me. In all my years growning up, he never hit me with a closed fist. Not only that, but this happened with my two children in the vehicle watching. I pulled into the festival dropped my parents off and left with my kids. At the time we were renting an apartment from my dad. We never went back. That weekend we went to my sister's two hours away. When we came back we stayed with a friend of mine for six weeks while I tried to find a place to live. That is how we came to live out where we do now. God works in mysterious ways. Anyway, the turning point there was that I realized that even if I forgave my dad, I could not change him. I would always have to walk on egg shells with him and be diligent about not leaving my children with him. I realized that it wasn't up to me. I could never fix him. All I could do was work on me. Things have definetly improved in my relationship with him since that. I've stopped blaming him. There's no point in constantly pointing the finger. Our relationship is still far from picture perfect and it never will be, but that's okay. But now, what am I supposed to tell him. Last summer when we went through all this I said something to him about how he was like this growing up and he said that he never hit us growing up. I don't know if he honestly doesn't remember (due to some health issues) or if he has just blocked it all out. I certainly don't want to haul this mess out on the table again. So what am I supposed to say? How do I answer this question. I really don't know.