My Pa

Well, after sitting here at the computer crying for the last half hour, I have come to a great understanding of myself. Growing can be so painful and when we finally understand something, it is a release.... I found myself being released from one of the biggest chains that has bound me for the last 40 years. Even though I will still carry this chain on my journey it does not bind me so tightly anymore.

I find it fascinating that we can be working away on something and not even realize where it is taking us. It is often as if we are divinely guided to seek our own truth, and when we are not even aware that we are on a journey, the arrival at our destination can be surprising and even take our breath away.

I have been working on developing a unit on Westward Movement for one of my masters classes. I based my unit on the Little House books because I have loved them from the moment that I got my hands on them. I dreamed of living on the prairie, with long braids swishing as I ran down a big hill toward my little home. I went to a summer camp when I was about 10 or 11 that was called Pioneer Days. It was a sleep away camp and we did wonderful activities like, make our own soap (with lye), create corn husk dolls and even cook a turkey in a pit, overnight. It was like a dream come true. I watched the Little House series and usually cried at the sappy sentimentality of it all. I honestly believe that it is possible that in a previous life, I was a pioneer girl, living life in a little cabin and discovering the joys all around me. All of that, led me to create this unit. I figure that if you have to do work, do it on something that you have a passion for. So, here I am... working away.

Today, when I opened my email, I got a message from my step mom saying that she and my dad would not be able to come up for the weekend that we had planned. There is a LOT that goes into this, but basically, my father and I are not close. For most of my life, I have felt as if I don't really have a "Dad", he hasn't really been there for me. He is not the guy that a girl can call when her car (or her heart) is broken, or when she has a financial question, or needs help to build a patio cover. Being around him is a lot of work, and can be very painful. He doesn't like me much and really doesn't know me, at all. I wish that we had a relationship, but he really seems to have his priorities mixed up and is more concerned with Rotary picnics and watering his lawn in Yuma, Arizona. Needless to say, I was very hurt and disappointed by the news that they wouldn't be coming up to visit. (from San Diego..just wanted to clarify... they do not live very far away and we have not spent time with them since Christmas)

So, I have work to do and after I finished erasing their names from both of my calendars for the weekend that they were supposed to come (which of course was in pencil.. I have learned at least that much). I cried. I cried because they don't care much, and it hurts. I cried because my kids are not important to them and I cried because I feel very, very alone in the world a lot of the time and I have, for much of my life. I decided to let myself have a five minute cry and then, get over it. I know that I should not be surprised or hurt by this news, but I am, I always am. I took a deep breath and got back to work.

I sat writing out lesson plans and adding books to my annotated bibliography when I got to a small book. A biography on Laura herself and I read about a time when Laura had slapped her sister and then gotten whipped by her Pa. The book says that she sobbed and sobbed as if "her heart would break" It was what came next that took me by surprise, this simple passage:

"The little house ... was suddenly much too small. There was no place for Laura to go, no place to hide and cry. Laura sat on a chair in the corner and felt miserable. After a while Pa said again, 'Come here, Laura.' Her heart melted when she heard that kindness in his voice. Pa pulled her onto his lap to comfort her. As his big strong arms surrounded her, she felt that everything was all right again. Pa had always understood Laura."

I broke down and a flood of thoughts, memories and emotions took me by surprise. I understood, why these books and stories had meant so much to me and it was NOT the reasons that I had thought.

I felt a lot like Laura when I was growing up. I was a little rebellious (if not in action, at least in thought) I did not always fit in and I was jealous of my sibling (he was younger and a boy, but I shared much of Laura's feelings that she had towards Mary). I felt heartbroken and as if there was no where to go and nowhere to hide from my family, my feelings and myself. The crucial difference for Laura, was that she had Pa. I think that I read these stories so that I could have a little bit of Pa for myself. I suddenly remembered fantasizing about working with Pa in the fields and helping him with the animals. I think that lots of times I cried at the TV show, because of Pa and his love and devotion to his family and the way that he always understood Laura. Mostly, because he always loved her. NO MATTER WHAT. When she was rascally, or in trouble, he loved her. When she was struggling to behave or do her school work, he loved her. As she grew, so did his love for her, and his respect. I think, that I was filling myself with that. Drinking in the Pa that I did not have for myself. I think I was fascinated by that relationship and that gift that Laura had, and I think that I may have been a bit jealous, too. I also think that it is why I cried so bitterly, when Michael Landon passed away. He was my Pa... he was a bit of a hero for me, when I had none.

So, here I am. Writing a unit. Getting my Masters. For who? For me? For Pa? For my Dad? I had NO idea that I would be HERE, emotionally, right NOW. I was not prepared. I am constantly amazed by the direction our path can take us and by the unexpected treasures, discoveries and mysteries that we find along the way. Here is what I learned today...

Some girls are lucky enough to have a "Pa" and some girls are smart enough to find one for their own daughters. I am blessed to have have found both in my life, even when one of them could never put his arms around me, I believe that he taught me what to look for. I may not have had a living man to look up to, but I had a beautiful example of a father. I was never as alone as I thought I was, and I might have missed out on some things, but I was still given a chance, to be with a father and learn from him. I have been given gifts that I have never even opened and I need to remember that sometimes the most beautiful and profound things are just waiting to be discovered, right in front of you. Thank you, Charles Ingalls for teaching me what a father should be. And, thank you Laura for letting me share him with you.