“To pull the metal splinter from my palm
my father recited a story in a low voice.
I watched his lovely face and not the blade.
Before the story ended, he’d removed
the iron sliver I thought I’d die from.” (Li-Young Lee)
I married Shai four months after he got down on one knee. Among the invitations that went out, I invited my father to walk me down the aisle. Despite being a Jehovah’s Witness who does not often step foot in a Christian church, he gladly came. He was the beaming father by my side, handing off his 27-year-old daughter to Shai on one of the most important days of my life.
I love watching a father walking his daughter down the aisle because of all it represents: a father who has walked along his daughter in life, protecting and shepherding her until he places his precious child into the hands of a man who will take equally good care of her. That wasn’t our story, of course. He was there to give me away but had not been there to raise me. But I was hoping that grace and forgiveness could make up for those many years in
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