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People often ask me what it is that I do at the Promise House. Apparently, the term ‘housedad’ isn’t as self-explanatory as I would like to assume. I guess that is understandable because, truthfully, I usually have a difficult time fleshing it out myself. After a few seconds of half sentences I usually resort to “Well, I guess I am basically a dad.” And, in reality, that is the best way to put it: I am a dad.

Granted, I am not your typical, briefcase-carrying, off-to-work-every-morning, coffee-sipping, golf-playing dad (though, I do consider myself somewhat of a coffee connoisseur). I am no Mike Brady, not by a long shot. How many dads that you know have 9 pregnant teenage daughters?

But, nonetheless, I am a dad. And for the duration of each girl’s pregnancy at the Promise House, I am her dad. I make sure she gets up on time in the morning. I worry about her eating a good breakfast. I take her to school. I help her with her homework. I kill the occasional spider. I discipline, reward, confront, and encourage. I tell her goodnight. I am a dad.

And, whether they like it or not, the girls begins to depend on me. They look to me to be a constant in their life, and for a lot of the girls that come into our care, I am the most constant male figure they have ever had. Also, they begin to come to me for advice and counsel. One of the most meaningful things for me is being able to help them understand God’s love and plan for their lives, like the time Samera asked me how she could really know God.

All of the girls climbed into the van to ride to school, but two of them were just going along for the ride. They would not be attending school that day. One had not yet been enrolled and the other, Samera, had a doctor’s appointment. Samera was only a few weeks away from her due date and I had noticed that her countenance had changed.

Frankly, she had a lot to think about. Her mom was in jail and she barely knew her father. She had no real family to speak of. Samera wanted to look to the father of her unborn daughter for stability and a future, but the rumor was he already had another child on the way with someone else. That is a pretty bleak outlook for a seventeen-year-old who is just weeks away from having a baby.

“Mr. Ryan, how do I know that I know.” Samera asked as we drove back to the Promise House. A pretty vague question by any standard, but I knew what she meant. “How do you know that you know God?” I asked. “Yeah” she said. I hit the left turn signal. “We better stop for a donut.”

I knew this was an important conversation. Sarah had no one. So, when she asked me “How do I know that I know?” I knew that in her heart of hearts she was asking “How do I know God won’t leave me too?”

As we talked over sprinkled chocolate glazed donuts I started wondering, “How does someone who has never really been loved learn to be loved by God? What is my role, as her dad, in helping her to accept God’s love?” It seemed like a big job, too big for me at least. I was trained in CPR, First Aid, AED, Conflict Management, and Crisis Intervention, but how could I help this young lady understand that Jesus loves her for who she is? How could I show her that love doesn’t mean exploitation, degradation, and eventual abandonment? I never received training for that.

And then it hit me. “If I don’t help her to understand just how precious she is to Jesus, no one else will.” There was no one else. I was her dad. Apparently, it was God’s intention that I help her to understand. And there we sat, in a donut shop, talking about a personal relationship with God. I am sorry to say that I did nott have any profoundly eloquent statements to bring it all together for her. I simply told her about the unconditional, eternal love God had for her through Jesus. But, as I look back on it, I realize now that what I said to her did not speak half as loudly as the way in which I lived towards her.

I am a dad. And, the truth is, I have countless opportunities everyday to help my ‘daughters’ understand how God feels about them. And, I have realized that the only way for me to effectively demonstrate God’s love to them is to truly allow myself to be loved by him. Imagine that. To love, I have to let myself be loved. When I live a life that is fully submitted to Jesus, amazing things happen in my life and in the lives of those I come into contact with.

Jesus said he came for the humble, sick, and outcast. He came for the ‘least of these.’ Jesus put us right in the middle of ‘the least of these’ at the Promise House and told us to serve them.

Posted on Thursday, October 18th, 2007 at 7:10 PM in promise house | rss feed for comments| Leave a response, or trackback