My husband’s’ father had never met our children. You see, the last time we had seen his father was on the beach about 8 or 9 years ago. He was living on the beach, homeless, by choice, and a slave to the addiction of alcohol. This had been going on since before I met my husband in 1997. It was not uncommon in those days to recieve a call from his grandmother saying that his dad was in jail for this or that, or that he needed money. When he moved out of our city into other parts of the state, we didn’t know where he was, when he would be calling except if he needed money, or was in trouble. Half the time, I am sorry to say, I expected the phone call to say that he was dead or missing in the woods, because that is where he slept most of the time if he wasn’t in jail. Despite that fact, my husband still loved his dad. Even though the relationship wasn’t as you would want a father son relationship to be, he still loved his dad just the way he was. He would still wire money to his dad even though we all knew it would be used for more alcohol, he would still send pictures of our children every now and then to keep his dad abreast of what was going on-if we knew where he was and had an address, most of the time he would be sleeping out in the woods. We would all pray for this man’s salvation, for him to overcome the addiction of alcohol through Jesus Christ, and for him to be safe.

We got a call about 4 months ago. It was from his father, but he was more sober than I had ever heard him. He met a Christian man who took him in, and was now going to church. He told us he was saved and that he was trying to live right. He even asked to talk to me (I hadn’t really spoken to him for about 4 years) and the conversation was actually pleasant with no explatives! THAT was really huge!!! My husband would talk to his dad often and in each conversation he would be relatively sober.
You see in his state, his body needs alcohol to function properly. He had been drinking for so long and for so many years, if he goes without alcohol for too long he starts shaking really badly, and seriously can’t function. It is an addiction that grips your very soul. So when I say relatively sober, he was still drinking, but not so drunk that you couldn’t understand half the things he was saying.
Fast forward to this weekend. My husband told me that God was really moving him to go visit his dad. He only lived two hours away and since my husband felt that his dad was more in his right mind than he had ever been, that it was time for him to meet his grandchildren.
Sunday morning came, my husband said he was thinking about taking us down there, and within 3 hours everything fell into place so we easily slipped out the door, packed, and were ready to meet his father. (Or Grandpadaddy as Noodlebug calls him).
Now I am not going to lie… I was a little nervous before we left. I knew he was more sober than ever, but flashbacks of him from before plagued my mind, and I was nervous having the kids around him. After praying with my awesome prayer warrior friend—must do a post on how good it is to have someone to pray with outside of your husband–God just kept giving me the peace I needed, saying that it was in His hands, and that we all will be fine.
We get down there, and as we drove up to the house he was staying at I noticed he was standing at the front porch waiting for us. He had a clean shirt and shorts on and was clean shaven for the most part. His hair was neat, and his nails were nicely manicured. This man was not who I remembered his father to be. He walked down the driveway more sober and clean than I had ever seen him, and had the biggest smile on his face. He came to my side of the car first as I was getting Micah out of the car. I unstrapped babt bear and started to walk towards him. I was nervous and didn’t look directly at him at first, afraid of what I might see. I smiled, glanced up, gave him a hug and said hello. I smelled the faint smell of alcohol on him, but we expected that, and accepted it. Baby Bear instantly reached out for his Granddad. I took a deep breath afraid at first, but trusting in God’s promise that everything would be okay, I gave BabyBear to his open arms, and beheld grandfather and grandson smiling at each other. Not knowing each other but in just a few seconds, they already “knew” each other.
I then looked up into his father’s face and saw a kind, loving, gentle man with an impish grin in his eyes. He looked older, the abuse he had taken over the years showed on his face and in the way he carried himself, but other than that his good nature and kind personality shined through. He was so different than the previous years I had known him. At that moment my husband gave his dad a hug and said hello to “shy” Noodlebug. We walked inside and exchanged pleasantries.
The whole time we were there his dad was on his best behavior. Trying his best not to curse, and if he even said a mild bad word, he would apologize. He was pleasant to talk to, enjoyed his grandkids, and we had fun laughing and joking. He had some pretty interesting stories to tell, and we enjoyed him very much. Many times my husband reached out and hugged his dad, we all told him we loved him, and he did the same to us. The need for his father to truly be part of the family was great, and we were willing to invite him into ours.
The next day we spent some time together. The day was amazing. My husband and his dad had times where it was the two of them, and I could see glimpses of the relationship the two of them had. Noodlebug eventually warmed up to “grandpadaddy” and asked to hold his hand along with my hand. As we were walking together, mommy, Grace, and grandpadaddy, I felt like we could have been a Hallmark card photo, the moment was perfect.
At one point, my husband was talking to his father leaning up against a rail, he glanced over and noticed him and his father standing exactly the same way. Laughing and pointing it out, the typical “like father like son” saying was mentioned.
baby Bear reached for grandpadadddy several times. Grandpadaddy loved his grandchildren and it showed. At the end of the day, as we dropped his father off at his house, we said our goodbyes. the children hugged him, and said “I love you.” I climbed out of the car and gave him a big hug, and looked directly into those kind worn eyes, smiled and told him I loved him.
“Pray with him.” God’s unmistakeable voice said to me.
“No God, I don’t want to be a burden.”
“Pray with him.”
I waited for my husband to finish hugging him, and asked if we could pray together.
“Sure!” was his reply with a grin.
We all grabbed hands under a darkening sky with thunder rolling in the distance. As we stood there fat raindrops fell down on and around us. Not enough to soak us, but just a light drop here and there. Peace fell around us. I put my hand on his father’s back and our heads touched as a father and daughter would do if praying together. I don’t remember what I prayed, but I know the family connection was so strong. We were a family praying under a darkening sky for simply God’s protection.
I got into the car after giving him another hug, and glanced at my husband hugging his dad so tightly. He said a few things to his dad, and with an “I love you,” got into the driver’s side of the car. He rolled down his window, and we all said that we loved him. You could see his father’s eyes misting up as he said he loved us too. As the rain was falling all around him, he stood at the end of the driveway waving until our vehicle was out of his sight.
“A Byrd Family Tradition.” said my husband.
“What?” I asked.
“Wave goodbye until the family member is out of sight.”