confessions of faith…
earlier this week, while in Chicago i, along with another co-worker got tattoos. it was planned from the day our conference trip was booked. mine, a wrist tattoo of the Hebrew lettering for “faithful” and her’s an ankle tattoo of a flowered vine & cross.
getting “faithful” comes from a longtime struggle i’ve had with God and His call for me to remain faithful to Him despite life’s circumstances. circumstances that seemed bleak, dark and incredibly hopeless. this tattoo sits as a reminder of this call to be faithful — and of His faithfulness to be all i’ve ever needed.
it was not planned, how i was going to tell my dad. you see, my mom lives vicariously through me. always pretty supportive of whatever outward expression i can conjure up. tattoos. pink hair. nose ring. but my dad, not so much. he always just kinda looks at me and says, “that’s interesting” or “you’re gonna regret that…”
because of his past reactions to things i’ve done, i’ve not told him about my first tattoo and have kept it hidden, and secret for 3 years. i knew before getting this 2nd tattoo, i really wouldn’t be able to keep it a secret as i had my other one. its hard to hide a wrist and honestly, i didn’t WANT to hide it. i was ready to just come out of the tattoo closet.
so saturday evening, in a different kind of step of “faith”, i laid it all out on the table. even confessing hiding my first tattoo the last 3 years.
“i’m not surprised,” he said, “when you’ve come home with pink hair and a ring in your nose, there’s not much more to be surprised about. i don’t agree with it, but you’re an adult.”
even though i didn’t NEED to tell him, it felt like the obedient thing to do (the whole honor thy father thing) and was a long time coming. it also feels good to know that i can get 8 more and not worry about hiding them. jk.