The Prodigal Father by Chris Harmon

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kalawine

Puritan Board Junior
Friends,
The following is an essay that was written by my stepson who no longer lives with my boys and me. He's been in college for only a matter of weeks. Chris has always been a very inteligent person, well above average actually. Last night I spent a good while talking to him online. I told him that the modern reformed movement could use bright young men like him and this led to he and I having a pretty long discussion about reformed doctrine. He was very open to it though I know it was all new to him.
Anyway, after I read his essay I thought it was so good (as well as touching) and I asked him if he would mind if I posted it on the Puritan Board. He gave me permission so here it is. (I have edited the essay to preserve his teacher's privacy as well and some other people who were mentioned)

Christopher Harmon
ENG 1113
Mrs. (teacher's name withheld)
August 27th, 2008
The Prodigal Father

Fathers---a father can be the most influential thing in a boy’s life, or not. Some say that things like; facial expressions or hand gestures, even down to how a young man, or boy, walks comes from the idolization of his father. Well I am here to present evidence that will disprove these theories and hopefully give some light into the whole “nature vs. nurture” debate that has raged for years. A father, whether he is in his son’s life or not, always has an influence on his son’s life.
From the age of five years old, I knew there was something different about me. I knew that the person who I had believed to be my father was truly not. So, as any child does, I began to question who my father really was. Unfortunately I, seeing how I looked remarkably like my little cousin and her father, put it together in my head that my Uncle Kendall was my father. This, of course, was not true. So my mother had to sit me down at the age of five and tell me that my father had never been around in my life.
The years past, I tried to get in touch with him a few times, but I was denied the experience of meeting my father. Slowly over time a deep hatred grew toward him, but ‘with age comes wisdom’, and it eventually passed. My freshman year in high school I finally got a hold of a phone number to reach him at. So, as any young, seeking adolescent, I got up the courage to call him, but no answer. I tried for months and months to reach him, but nothing. Finally, one Sunday afternoon I called. One ring, two rings, three rings, and then a small voice came over the phone. “Hello?” I about fainted. I finally had gotten an answer. I almost lost my voice, but I regained composure quickly and said, “May I speak to John {last name} please?” The small girl, who I believe was his oldest daughter called to him to get the phone, “Hello?” came the groggy voice of someone who had been woken up from their Sunday afternoon nap. “This is your son, Christopher.” Came my reply. “Oh…” was all he could say at first. We began talking, and that was the first contact I had with my biological father.
It would be years before I ever heard from him again. I had tried calling a couple times but had not gotten anywhere with that. Then I lost the number so that ended the means and access to call him. I had planned all during the course of my high school life with some friends on how I was going to show up on his doorstep and just lay into him about how pathetic a father he had been. For years I planned this, contemplating how I was going to do it. My senior year I had attended an event with my church youth group to go see David Nassar at Blue Mountain, and I had bought one of his devotionals while I was there.
While doing the devotional I read one day that, we as Christians should give up all hatred we held towards other human beings. I really thought about that, I mulled it over in my head for days on end and finally decided that I really did need to forgive him. So I did.


Everything had changed once I did that. I told my family how I had forgiven him and it was all behind me and they were extremely shocked. That’s when they started fighting even harder to set up a meeting between him and myself. They somehow got it arranged.
Finally! After 13 years I was going to meet my father. I was in shock and amazement. We drove up to Nashville, Tennessee. It was such a long trip. I was so anxious and excited that I had barely slept the night before. The four hour trip was disastrous on my nerves. Finally we reached Nashville and we met. Wow! What an event! I had thought I was nothing like him except in looks. Boy was I wrong! I saw him walking towards us with the same walk that I myself used. When he spoke we had the same voice tones, we also had the same facial expressions. It was incredible. We even used the same hand gestures when we talked. It was amazing. Who would’ve thought that having never met the man before in my life, that I would be so like him even to my own body weight being the same as his when he graduated high school, that I would be so much like him. It was such an experience that I actually passed out on the trip back I was so overloaded.
While I was with him for lunch, we talked about a lot of things. He apologized out right for the way he hadn’t been in my life. I gave him a CD with a song I discovered that explained exactly how I felt about him now, along with a note saying that itself. One of the key give-a-ways that proved to me that I am so much like him, when he read the note he had the same facial expressions that I use when I’m fighting back tears. It was just absolutely incredible!
To quote Ruth Renkal, “Sometimes the poorest man leaves his children the richest inheritance.” How true is this statement? A man will always leave his children with an inheritance, whether it be no more than just a style of walking, a hand gesture, or even a facial expression. This may not prove the nature half of the “nature vs. nurture” debate, but it sure gives me pretty strong evidence that even if a father is never around, he will influence his children’s lives in some way or form.
 
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