It was a hot Arkansas day in July when I drove Staci to a TV Station in Little Rock to perform on a talk show. Two days earlier, we received a call from a friend we had known years before, and he was elated to hear that we would be in the city as he, too, had just moved to Arkansas. Little did we know just how providential our uniting would prove to be on that day.

Staci and I shared our vision and passion for EMwomen (an organization we had developed for empowering women -- physically, mentally and spiritually) and how we felt God was encouraging us to use 2007 as a year of completion of the planning process and a time of perfecting the team to launch the vision. That is when Eric passionately began to tell us how God was challenging him with the same mandate of completion and perfection, but only in a much different way. He shared how he had not known his father for 30 years and yet felt he should find him and bring completion and closure to that area of his life before the year 2007 was through. He went on to tell us the story of his childhood memory of being 11 years old the day he came home from a friend’s house. As Eric walked up to the driveway, he saw his dad get into his work truck and begin pulling out of the driveway. Eric ran up to the side of the truck and asked his father where he was going. His father said that he had to go away. Eric said, “Where are you going? I want to come with you.” Eric’s dad told him to go inside and his mother would explain every thing. Perplexed, Eric went inside to find out, along with his other four siblings, that his father and mother would be getting a divorce and that they will not be seeing him again. Like a lot of kids, Eric and his four siblings grew up not knowing their dad.

Through many tears and emotions, Eric proceeded to tell us the story of how he, only a few weeks prior to our lunch, had flown to California to find his father after 30 years of separation.

Eric walked up to the door of the home he presumed to be his father’s and knocked. The door opened, and standing before him was a teenage boy. Eric immediately thought that this must be the wrong house and said to himself, "My dad’s too old to have a teenage boy at home." But he went on to ask, “Is Ernie Casterlon at home?” The boy said, “Yes” and called for the old man to come to the door. This was the moment of truth. The moment that Eric had waited for, almost his entire life -- the chance to see his dad, again.

The man walked to the door. Eric was looking eye-to-eye at a man who had the same facial structure, same height, and the same eyes as Eric.

The man said, “May I help you?”

Eric said, “Yes. My name is Eric Casterlon. Are you Ernie Casterlon?”

Ernie said “Yes, how can I help you?”

Somewhat frustrated, Eric said “Do you know, Marie Casterlon? She is my mother. Are you my father?”

Ernie’s shoulders sank; tears began to roll down his cheeks. Both men through their arms around each other and wept together.

Over the next couple of days, they spent time getting caught up on their lives. It turned out that even Ernie wanted to reconnect with Eric and his siblings, but was afraid to do so, for the fear of rejection. Both men were in amazement how they both spent so many years separated because of little four letter word – fear.

When Eric was finished telling me the story, I stopped and said, “Eric, have I ever told you my story?” He said, "No" and so I told him how I, too, had been raised without a father figure in my life. When I was just one year old, my mother and father divorced and I never knew my dad. Once when I was 15 years old I saw him briefly but the bitterness, fear and immaturity in my heart was too much for the relationship to bear. I saw him a couple of times and then never saw him again.

I looked Eric in the eyes and said, “Eric, your story has inspired me to find my dad. I commit to you to do whatever it takes before the end of 2007 to find my father and bring closure and completion to a long overdue healing of a wound in my life.”

And that is where my journey began. The very next day, Staci, our two children, and I headed down to Dallas for a previously scheduled trip to see my mom and step-father (who we affectionately call, Pops). Though this trip had been scheduled for months, Staci and I added to the agenda the new task of finding my father while we were there.

That evening after supper, we all set around the table visiting. I told my mom about Eric’s story and that I had been inspired to find my father. My mother just sat there, listening, and not saying a word. Then she said, “What will you do when your father rejects you?” I just looked at her and said, “It doesn’t matter if he rejects me. What matters is that I at least make the effort to contact him.”

My mother stood up, walked into her office, and returned a few seconds later with my father’s address, driver’s license number, and his birthday written on a piece of paper. She did it so quickly, that it was as if it was just sitting on top of her desk, waiting for me to ask. Shocked, I took the paper from her hand and quietly said, “Thank you”.

My mother is an amazing woman. Being a parent myself, I understand that raising me on her own was no small feat. I can remember the times when she had to work extremely long hours or take on two jobs, just to keep a roof over my head or food on the table. As a kid, I resented all the time that I had to spend alone. But now I understand the magnificent sacrifices that she made to help make my life as close to normal as she could.

I have to admit that when my mother suggested my dad might reject me, despite my good efforts, fear took over my body. Was it even worth the effort? What if he did reject me? Do I really want to open a wound I have had buried in my soul for so many years? Despite my nervousness, Staci patiently waited on me to find peace in my spirit to make the call.

After two days, she kindly suggested that I make the call, if only to bring closure to the question of whether or not I had done everything I could do to reconcile the relationship. It was Saturday evening and I still hesitated.

Then Sunday morning, we attended church where the minister ended his sermon with one final note. He said, “There are men out here in this audience that need their relationship with their father restored. Now is the time to do it.”

Staci turned and said to me, “Now what are you going to do?”

I knew I had to do something. For over 36 years I had compartmentalized the pain of my father’s lack of presence in my life. I had forgiven him years ago, yet the pain of not knowing him still lingered. I had learned to tuck my emotions neatly away in a little part of my brain that I rarely visited. But at that moment, the box was pried open, and the emotions of fear and doubt began to flood my mind, along with the excitement and anticipation of what could be.

That evening, Staci left her silence, and boldly challenged my fears and trepidation by encouraging the phone call once and for all. She gave me a motivational speech that resembled a steam roller barreling down a newly paved road. She walked me out to the car, and encouraged me to make the call in private. Well, private, except for the video camera she placed on the dashboard. She pressed record and walked away.

For most of my life, I have spent my entire career in some form of a sales and marketing position. I have done a lot of cold calling through the years and, I admit, it was, difficult for me many times. Some days the phone felt like it weighed a ton when I picked it up to use.

When I picked up the phone to call my father, however, that little cell phone weighed more than all the cold calls combined. It was by far, the most difficult call I have ever had to make.

I was alone. My mind flooded with emotions. I started dialing. It began to ring. With each passing ring, anticipation grew. Finally, voice mail, with a man's voice, responded to the call. I had no idea if it was my father’s voice, so I just quickly hung up.
Disappointed in myself, I turned off the camera, and walked in to the house. Staci looked at me, and I just shook my head. She followed me into the bedroom, and I told her what happened. I told her that I was so afraid he might reject me.

Staci began to encourage me to not let another person’s response dictate my willingness to love at all cost. She also took the time to role-play with me, acting as if my dad did reject me. It helped me come to grips with that possibility and what I would do and say if it happened that way. She encouraged me to offer love without expectation of love in return. We also role-played a happy reunion, and I have to say that little drama made it all feel a lot better!

After several minutes of this, I finally had the courage to make the next call. So, I went into my mom’s office and closed the door. I set up the video camera, myself, this time and began to dial. Again, the voice mail answered. This time, I left a message.

Thinking back on the message, I realized I blubbered my way through it. I would be surprised if anyone who listened to it would ever understand what I was trying to say. But, it was done and I did it with love. The message had been left. Now it was time to wait.

Before our little role-playing session, I was just going to leave a message like, “Hi, this is Larry, your son. I would love to meet you sometime. Give me a call if you get a chance.” But after speaking with my wife, she encouraged me to be more verbal with my love on that first call by saying, “Hi Dad, this is Larry. I have really had you on my heart a lot lately, and I have been praying for you, wondering how you are doing. I have a wife and kids now, and I would love for them to have the opportunity to meet you.”

Basically, she encouraged me to let him know that I wasn’t calling to interrogate him on the mistakes of his past, but to offer true unconditional love.

After a long night of waiting to hear that phone ring, I fell asleep, a bit disappointed. My head was filled with thoughts. Maybe that wasn’t his number after all. Maybe he doesn’t want to talk to me. Maybe he’s just moved on with his life.

The next morning there was, still, no call. The morning passed and we packed up the car to begin the journey back home. I didn’t really say much about what I was feeling, but I was disappointed.

As we pulled into our home city limits, I noticed on my cell phone, that somewhere along the journey home, I missed a few calls. As I listened to them, one in particular caught my attention. The voice mail went like this, “Larry – this is Dad. I am so glad you called. There hasn’t been a day that’s gone by, that I haven’t thought about you. I miss you and would love to speak with you. Please call me back.”

Tears began to well up in my eyes, as they are right now, as I am writing this story. It was my Dad. And he missed me, too. Of all the things he could have said, he said “Larry – this is Dad.” My heart melted. I had waited my whole life to hear those words. I couldn’t wait to call him back.

The minute we got home, I went into my office and called him back. We spent the next two hours talking like a couple of teenage girls. As soon as one was finished, the other one had something to say. He shared with me highlights of everything that had happened to him since I was a child, and I did the same.

When I was through, he said, “Son, there’s something that I want to tell you. I wish I would have said it a long time ago.” I said, “What’s that, Dad?” He said, “I am proud of you, and I love you!”

I said, “Dad, I have waited my whole life to hear you say that. Thank you and I love you, too.”

He said, “We want to come up and see you and your family. I just am not sure when it would be.”

I said, “I want that, too. But I don’t want us to wait that long to see each other. What if we come down to see you?”

He said, “Well, that would work, too.”

I said, “Do you think this weekend would be too early?”

He paused a moment, and said, “Well, we had plans this weekend. But, we’ll just change them. This is too important. You guys come on down.”

Again, he could have told me he was too busy but, instead, he said the most perfect thing and that was that seeing me was more important than any plans they had.

So, Staci, the kids, and I journeyed back to Texas where I stepped out of the car to see my Dad for the first time in over twenty-two years. We embraced, and I just didn’t want to let go. We both wept with joy as this was truly a day of celebration. When we finally looked into one another’s eyes, the resemblance was amazing. We stood eye to eye, our gestures were the same, our posture was the same. We even had the same passion for technology. It was simply amazing.

For the next few days, we got caught up on life. Eighteen people, comprised of my siblings, nieces and nephews I had never known, came for the reunion and it was simply remarkable.

That first night, as Staci and I laid in bed, she reminded me of how God works with willing hearts. The problem with most relationships is that people try to do the right thing at the wrong time with the wrong hearts, and it results in conflict and division. That is precisely what happened when I tried to meet my dad when I was a young, bitter and immature at 15 years old.

But now, after 22 years of God molding me and softening my heart, I did the right thing at the right time with the right heart and the results have been truly MIRACULOUS!

I pray that you find it in your heart to seek restoration, forgiveness, reconciliation and healing of broken or lost relationships in your past. If you do it with the right heart, you will be amazed at the results.

To have a relationship with my father, for me, is the most incredible thing in the world. I look at other friends around me who disrespect their fathers or under-appreciate their parents and I think, “If they only knew what it felt like to not have them at all, perhaps they would put aside their differences and embrace their loved ones with more respect and mercy than ever before.”

But for me and my father, we have a second chance. We have an opportunity to have that relationship that we both had always hoped for. We are together, again….forever.