A Preacher's Daughter

by Heather Durenberger, Tastemaker in Residence


Father’s Day is always tough for me as I lost my dear daddy ten years ago. I felt challenged by writing this piece but have chosen to lean into the discomfort and dig for the deep wisdom and knowledge I gained from my father.  My dear daddy was a minister. 

Being a minister’s daughter, I assumed that all kids grew up in well chaos.  From the time I could walk and talk, I was part of this amazing family, my church family – actually it was larger than the church family because it was the larger community.  I saw from such a young age the most incredible human stories.

As a preacher’s daughter, I was invited into people’s homes and lives.  I was able to experience incredible moments.  From happy births to devastating deaths to unimaginable betrayal, I have experienced life changing, faith changing moments as an honored observer.  These moments have strengthened my faith, these moments have challenged me, and these moments have broadened my thinking and feeling to heights and depths that I did not know existed.   

I have come to realize how precious life really is.  I have come to realize how quickly life can change. And I come to realize how different people’s claim to the truth can be.  My faith is not only in a heavenly father, but also in my fellow human beings.  I have learned that there are many sides to a story.  We wear many lenses when we see and experience the world.  I fully own my brokenness and biases in how I see the world.  

So this Father’s Day I guess I ask the reader for grace and patience as you hear and experience others in our world.  For my journey, like other human’s paths or journeys is a work in progress.  For I am still becoming who I was made to be.  I too am still on a journey and ask that this Father’s Day you take a moment to fully appreciate what you have and who you have it with fully knowing that the rest of your journey lies before you.  

Much love to all the fathers and father figures in the world,

Heather Durenberger