Dad #1, Dad #2 and Song #3

Band Camp ended today, so we put on our first show for our friends and family. My mom and sisters couldn't be there because of V.B.S. (Vacation Bible School), and my friend Sarah was there too; another friend, Natalie, had to pack (she's going to Michigan tomorrow) leaving my dad to be the only one coming. I didn't really care if anyone came, just so long as I got a ride home. But my dad said he would come.

The show was supposed to start at seven-thirty. Parents started showing up at seven, while we were still practicing, but I didn't expect my dad to come until seven twenty or so. At seven fifteen, he wasn't there, but I was worried we were going to start early. By seven twenty five, we still hadn't started, but no sign of dad. I started to get mad, picturing him sitting at the computer, playing Diablo II, not realizing the time. We started playing at seven-thirty two. I tried to forget about my dad and concentrate on the music. Our show is called "The Rise and Fall of Rome," and consists of three songs; I have the first two basically memorized, but the third still needs work. Anyway, we finished, and my eyes scanned the crowd of parents, not seeing my dad amongst them. I felt hurt, offended that I wasn't important enough to him, for some reason. That a game he was playing was more important than making sure he was on time. (Though, this has happened to me before. The computer impairs your perception of time.) So I started packing up our stuff. I'm in the percussion pit, so we had quite a few instruments to put away. I started piling all our mallets into my arms and, not wanting to make two trips, I grabbed the triangles, the jingle bells (no joke), the finger cymbals, and the hammer. They had to go back into the school cafeteria (we had been on the football field). We were supposed to put our keyboards on the truck (which is really a semi) that was parked near the field. When I got back from putting the accessories away, the keyboards were gone, so I took some music stands to the band room. (I know this info seems pointless, but stick with me; I was in the building a lot, and never went to the truck)

Since my dad wasn't there, I asked my friend Jason (Senior; plays the trombone; had a crush on me last year) to give me a ride home. He's a bit of a crazy driver, but I made it home okay. My dad wasn't at home when I got there. At that point, I really didn't care if he had gone back to the school to look for me. He wasn't there when I wanted him to be, why should I be there for him? When I got inside the house I started to throw a fit. I was pretty angry. I threw my notebook on the floor, and my hat, and my bag, and I stomped around a bit. Then I started to cry. It wasn't fair! Why couldn't he keep his promises? Why couldn't he be there for me? God put his arms around me, and cried too. (This only made me cry more.) Then he whispered to me, "I'll always be there for you." And He told me to be still, and know that He is God.

At least I have one Dad who'll never let me down.

So I went to my room, and pouted for a bit, still feeling bad. The phone rang, and it was Natalie. While she rambled about Alias spoilers and an AU Lois and Clark fic, part of my brain was screaming at her to ask me how I was. I wanted her to realize that I was upset. I wanted her to listen as I poured out my heart and told her how I was feeling, how frustrated I was. It's not that I wasn't interested in what she was saying; on the contrary, I enjoy listening to her ramble and jump from topic to topic faster than a speeding bullet, but I had other things on my mind. So I laughed in the right spots, said all the appropriate "filler" words and she was none the wiser.

(Nat, if you're reading this, know that it's not your fault. I'm really good at that game. )

After we got off the phone, my dad came home. It was about fifteen minutes after I got back. I heard him come in and I went out to the living room, to hear his excuse. When he saw me, he was about as angry as I was.

"How did you get home?" he demanded.

Surprised, I stammered "I got a ride with Jason. You weren't there, so I got a ride."

"I was there!"

"I looked for you, I didn't see you!" Tears started to sting my eyes. "You weren't there."

"I WAS there, I saw you play!"

"Where were you? I looked for you, you weren't there." I was babbling, and repeating myself, but I couldn't believe it. He was *not* there.

"I was by the truck," he said indignantly. "You said you had to load everything up afterwards, so I figured I would see you over there. I saw all of you get in a little huddle and then after that you were gone."

Remember when I spent all that time inside. Oooh, I hate irony. Well, I love irony. I love to hate irony. Anyways...

"Why didn't you come find me? I had to take some stuff INSIDE too."

He did say something here, but I really don't remember what. I started to sulk off to my room at this point.

"You should have come and found me," I said over my shoulder. "I looked for you, and I didn't see you. I thought you weren't there so I got a ride."

I got to my room and started to cry again. Now, not only did I feel hurt, but I felt stupid. He had been there the whole time. I had rationalized, at the time, that even if he was in the crowd, he would come and find me. See if I needed help moving the Marimba or anything. Surely he would want to tell me what a good job he thought I did, even though I killed song three. Surely he would want to comment on the unusual costumes the pit has to wear this year. (We're the slaves of the Roman Empire) But no, he wanted to wait by the truck. So I spent a bunch of time being angry for no reason, right? Hmm, a thought popped into my mind, and I think it's intended to justify my anger: he was there, but he wasn't there *for* me. He didn't support me in the aforementioned ways.

Right now (surprise, surprise) he's sitting at the computer playing Diablo. Oy.

But I can't let this throw off my perspective. This is really an insignificant event. It's so little; I probably won't even remember it in a year. (Unless I come back and read this, that is) But that doesn't take away the hurt I feel, even though he was there. Even though I was angry, all that anger was really just my way of expressing how hurt I was.

In conclusion, no conclusion. Typical. I guess this situation was designed to teach me a lesson but I'm not entirely sure what it is. I guess that I know that I always have Jesus to hold me, and cry with me, but I already knew that. Oh well. The only thing I can do, is be still, and know who is God.

Until next time,
~A&C

P.S. This is so long! Well, I guess it makes up for the last one.