I have this fear that creeps up every now and again. It usually takes a while to shake. It rocks me to the core. I feel it drag me down. I find myself asking others if they see it in me. God eventually reels me back in with time. Someday I plan for the fear to disappear altogether.

Yesterday it scared me. The day before that it scared me. Today, the fear was still lingering.

What if I’m like my dad? 

A list of questions and accusations swirl around in my head. Before I know it I can’t separate the truth from the lies. The closer I get to finishing this book  the more the thoughts seem to stick.
He was an addict all his life. I guess I will be too. I’ll never grow out of it. I’m just like him. I’m going to fail. I’ll always be misunderstood. 
Those are just a few.
I see a line in my family tree that I don’t want, yet I find myself believing that I will just follow the legacy like my father did. Like his father did. Like his brother and sister did.
How is it that one moment I can be confident in Who I am in Christ and the next feeling defeated because I’m just like him? Don’t get me wrong, everything about my dad wasn’t bad. He had a big heart. A big, broken heart. I know he loved me. He was funny.
It’s much easier, however, to go to the negative. Why? Because that’s what I experienced the most. The smell of whiskey is a memory deeply embedded into my mind. The excuses. The broken promises. The abandonment.
If he ended up like that, won’t I too? 
A friend of mine sent me a song yesterday that has been rocking my world. I’ve had it on repeat. I’m pretty sure Jesus called Matthew West to write it for me. The song has reminded me that I’m bringing new life to my family tree. I’m changing generations. My yesterday doesn’t define me.

My father’s legacy is not my legacy.

I believe it more today than I did five minutes ago. One step at a time. One prayer at a time. One piece of God’s grace over me at a time.

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