Heading into Father’s Day, I’m stepping out to share a vulnerable part of my personal story with you, not to seek sympathy but rather to share a different perspective of where my heart is every year at this time.
I was born in Pensacola, Florida in 1990, at the end of the "American Crack Epidemic." It is my understanding that my biological mother was an addict, and I vaguely remember finding out in Kindergarten that the man on my birth certificate was not my father.
God the Father carried me through the Florida foster care system and through many homes. He was ever present, and I always felt His love.
I prayed daily that He would gift me a family here on earth, and against all odds and with the help of my great aunt, He came through for me and answered my prayers! In the late 90s, He gifted me the most incredible mom and dad PLUS 5 siblings! For this, I am forever grateful.
This weekend I’m celebrating my father here on earth and my Father up in heaven, but my heart goes out to all the children around the globe who are fatherless in this season. May we seek them out and lift them up together. May we share the good news of God's love and make sure they knew He's a good, good father.