Genetics are an amazing thing. Like, really astounding, incredibly shocking, and heart-breakingly beautiful. Over the last two days, I’ve had the chance to see my husband interact with his father, and have been SO blessed to see how the genetic string pulls through despite the 14 years that have passed until they’ve last seen one another.
My husband is wonderful. He is gentle, kind, compassionate, and very patient. Much credit is due to his mother for raising him primarily on her own. When his parents split, his connection with dad became very faint due to some unfortunate circumstances and more than a little irresponsibility. It’s easy to say that all “Harli” is thanks to his mum. Over the last few days, I’ve been continually amazed to see that this isn’t true. At. All.
When Hals invited his dad to our Australian wedding, I honestly didn’t expect him to make the cross-country trip to attend. As is often the case, my expectations were torn to shreds. He not only booked a flight- a very major purchase given that he was recently laid-off- but offered multiple times to help in any way he could imagine.
To the point: My husband is very, very much like his father. It was amazing to see an older version of the man I love walking around my apartment, shoulders held the same way and with the same sleepy look on his face. Their cadence of speech, physical presence, and facial expressions are nearly identical.
Even more amazing was the opportunity to see my grown-up husband hanging out with both of his parents at the same time- something that hadn’t occurred since he was five or six years old. It’s easy to see why their union worked, and shattered, and more than a little sad to see the remnants of what might have been.
I found Harli’s dad to be very kind, gracious, intelligent, and a bit shy. Really, very much like Harli. Shocker, huh? To be blunt, Harli’s dad has broken my heart. He’s incredibly humble, and very insecure when it comes to his place with his son. He makes no expectations for treatment or consideration, and often gets very quiet when Harli talks about his childhood. When he left on Monday evening, I cried soggy tears for no other reason than the fact that no one should feel so small.
We hope to see his dad again soon, and I’m praying very hard that he and Harli can build a relationship in adulthood. In the meantime, my prayers are full of thanksgiving and praise for a weekend of reminders that God is an amazing Provider, especially when we have no idea what it is we need.
To close: pandas are cute. I wish I could be a panda. Or a Shih-tzu. Oh, what a life.