Post by Karen Sloan
Karen Sloan’s Manifesto chapter is about sexual integrity and authenticity. A minister in the Presbyterian Church (USA), she’s a part of the ‘presbymergent’ conversation. She regularly spends time with those in Catholic orders, which she speaks about in the recently released Flirting with Monasticism: Finding God on Ancient Paths.
Something I took for granted living most of my life in California is that public restrooms will always have toilet seat covers. About two years ago I moved to Connecticut and realized that much of the east coast does not require toilet seat covers in their public restrooms. At some point I must have mentioned this lack to my mom, for last Christmas morning I discovered this gift (http://www.amazon.com/Charmin-Toilet-Seat-Covers-Tissue/dp/B000GCRX9I) tucked among the other things in my stocking. Exactly what this topic has to do with Emergent, I’m not sure. Yet I wanted to share this story about toilet seat covers, or as I now refer to them, “potty papers.”
Last year, while engaged in the expected activity of being in a restroom, I overheard the following conversation. A door to an adjacent stall was opened and a little girl’s voice, with a cry of pure delight, said, “Look Mommy! There is potty papers!”
Mommy responded with calm affirmation, “Yes, and we will have you use one.”
But seeking to make sure that everything happened as the little girl expected, she informed Mommy, “When Daddy helps me, he wipes the seat with toilet paper AND he has a potty paper.”
Now a bit flustered, Mommy said, “Well, this seat looks okay. This time it will be enough to use a potty paper.” Satisfied, the girl says nothing further. Mommy’s voice trails off as she tries to figure out why Daddy would also wipe the seat, saying quietly, “perhaps he’s worried there is water on the seat…”
It was difficult not to laugh during their conversation. The little child’s delight in “potty papers” impacted me. Now when I walk into a restroom on the east coast and notice there are toilet seat covers, I smile with the memory of that overheard conversation. But then it usually makes me a bit sad.
Sad? Why would I be sad?
Oh. No Daddy.
When I was that little girl’s age, Daddy was a part of my life. But I don’t remember him ever being as involved in my welfare as this little girl’s daddy was. Though he tried his best, Daddy would eventually become so shut down that he—first emotionally and then actually—fled our family. Much healing has taken place in my life, yet I will always carry the wound caused by his absence. And sometimes the most surprising things will cause sadness, like overhearing a little girl talk about how her daddy cares for her.
But far sadder is the astounding number of my peers who are also fatherless. It’s an uncomfortable reality: the number of young adults struggling to emerge without a father present, and to work through the wounds that still remain.
For me, a place of deep healing is found when I reflect on the One whom Jesus called Father. As an adopted sister of Jesus, I too can draw near to Our Father. Even as this world is at times horrible, there is a Father who cares dearly for me and empowers me to care for others in my Father’s World.
And while we’re on the subject of toilets, fathers, and faith…thanks sis for sharing this discovery with me.