Soul Song For Survivors
Sexual Abuse Recovery
Title: The Father-Daughter Dance
by Diann Messer
The Father-Daughter Dance
I watched in awe as a tender scene from a movie about the life
of Laura Ingalls Wilder unfolded. In this movie she had taken a temporary
position as a schoolteacher in a town away from her home and family. The
home where she stayed was not a happy home and she lay in bed at night listening
to the arguments between the husband and wife. She was lonely and frightened,
away from home for the first time in her young life. Then she recalled
a comforting incident from her childhood. A howling wolf had caused her
to feel frightened and unable to sleep. Her daddy came into the room.
Knowing that Laura was afraid, he picked her up in his arms and told her
she had nothing to fear. He carried her to the window so she could see
the object of her fears, all the while telling her how safe she was in her
home and in his arms. He comforted and protected his little girl, making
her feel safe at a time when she had been terribly afraid.
As I watched
this scene, something inside me began to stir. Tears streamed down my
cheeks as I was gripped with the fatherly tenderness portrayed in this movie.
That same fatherly care and tenderness was missing from my own life. I
began to realize some of the losses of growing up with a father who had
been abusive. My own father was more like the wolf howling in the night;
I learned to fear him. His touch was not comforting and his words did not
cause me to feel safe and secure. I cried healing tears as I watched Laura
Ingalls as she drew strength from this comforting childhood memory.
Later in that same movie, Laura and her husband, Almonzo, had just faced
a devastating season in their lives. Laura was standing outside with her
father, crying and asking him, 'Why didn't you tell me it would be this
hard?" Even as she spoke the words, she pressed her head against his shoulder
and his strong arm of comfort surrounded her. I cried again. What a beautiful
picture of the father-daughter relationship. Laura was indeed most fortunate
to have had it.
I've also watched, several times, another movie called 'Father of the Bride'.
This one is a very funny movie, yet, a real tear-jerker for me. The whole
movie is about the beautifully intense relationship between this father
and his daughter. It takes you on an emotional roller coaster ride through
the wedding planning and marriage of the daughter. Again, I cried throughout
the movie. A favorite bonding activity for this father and his daughter
was shooting baskets. Throughout the movie, there were scenes of the two
of them playing together. They had fun. They thoroughly enjoyed their
time together. The time they spent playing basketball was like a carefully
choreographed dance. I grieved my way through each scene as I observed more
losses in my own life.
I realize that life is not like the movies, but
at the same time, these movies do portray what the real-life interactions
between a father and his daughter should be.
I find myself constantly
observing people. I especially enjoy watching the interactions between
fathers and their daughters. I have to admit that I 'steal' from the
emotions of these interactions. I study the people, watch how they relate
and see how the father 'enjoys' his daughter. In doing this, I have come
to realize how important that 'enjoyment' really is to the daughter. Without
speaking a word to her, he speaks volumes to her soul by his pure delight
and enjoyment of her. Without even knowing it, he is preparing her for
the relationship she will one day have with her husband. She will feel
comfortable with his 'enjoyment' and 'delight' in her, it will not be a
foreign feeling, but familiar and comforting because of what her own father
poured into her soul.
I recently read a short story a father wrote about
his little girl. This father, who wanted to get some exercise, took his
little girl with him to a jogging track. She, of course, took off in a
dead run around the track as her daddy began his deliberate trudging along
behind her. This father wrote of the joys of watching her run, of seeing
her uninhibited pleasure of zig-zagging across the track, running around
in circles, spending that precious energy he wished he had. He was delighting
in her innocence and care-free abandonment towards life. He described her
as 'poetry'. He was observing and making memories for himself of his little
girl. When the exercise time was finished, he picked up his exhausted little
girl and placed her on his shoulders. He tenderly carried his tired little
one back home, making sure she was protected and cared for. The whole time
they were on the track, this father was pouring something precious into
his little girl. He had taken the time to share a part of his life with
her, and in so doing, he was telling her that she is important to him .
He was including her and appreciating her child-like spontaneity and enthusiasm.
Precious gifts that would carry over into adulthood in ways that he could
not even begin to imagine. It was simply a natural outflowing from father
to daughter.
I watch and carefully observe at every opportunity. I live
vicariously through these interactions, gleaning bits and pieces of what
"should have been". In some strange way, I find comfort in this. I don't
really focus heavily on the losses in my own life so much as I focus on
coming away from these encounters with pieces of a puzzle that have been
lost and now are found. I can 'click' those missing pieces into place and
somehow feel more complete. I am putting together the framework of my being,
something that should have been carefully and systematically laid down early
in life. Now the responsibility for that foundation belongs to me. I am
learning to trust and to develop healthy relationships with people in my
life. There are days when the prospect of being able to do that seem unrealistic,
and there are days when I can see it from afar. It still is a roller coaster
ride for me; up and down over and over again, two steps forward and one
step back. Still, I call it progress, because I'm still in the game. I
haven't quit. I'm still pressing forward, walking into the wind, some days
gaining ground, some days losing it. Forgetting those things which are
behind and pressing toward the mark.
The relationship between a father and daughter is pure poetry. It is music.
It is a dance. I've watched as little girls dance with their daddies.
They stand on top of his feet and allow him to have complete control of
their every movement. Trust.... in all it was meant to be, simple, natural
and complete.
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