It wasn’t an unusual evening. Leisurely, I and my wife, Lorna, sat in our living room and were watching TV when her phone rang. Faintly, I overheard a quivering voice and sobs at the other end. It was my second daughter, Aika¹. I sensed something was wrong. My heart beat faster, even more, until my wife decided to hand her phone to me.

I made a gasp of prayer in my heart as Peter did when drowning, “Lord, save me². Is He not my present help in times of trouble³?” I thought. Peace flooded my soul almost instantly as I received the phone. In times of crisis, our posture of prayer should be first and most necessary, isn’t it?

“Dad, I am very sorry, I did something wrong. I am being sent back home,” she sobbed. I listened but I didn’t ask for details. Instead, I assured her of my forgiveness and understanding, not once but a few times. That was very important. Being broken, she didn’t need a judge but a loving father. A father’s love should be the light at the end of the tunnel where his child has fallen into.

Being broken, she didn’t need a judge but a loving father. A father’s love should be the light at the end of the tunnel where his child has fallen into.

Aika had just finished her midterm exams when she made an infraction against the school’s policy that deserved disciplinary measures. The decision was immediate, final, and irrevocable. She had to fly back home. This happened in her penultimate semester before finishing college. The unexpected crisis had happened and I wasn’t sure whether I was ready for it. I knew I had to cling on to His grace alone.

Being emotionally down, I knew she needed my counsel to what specific steps she needed to do next. She needed guidance not scolding. I instructed her in detail to fly to Chicago and stay with her sister, Ate Shek. I felt she should be with somebody in a place, wherein she must feel secured at that very moment.

While she was in Chicago, I made a constant update of her well-being through her Ate Shek. As desperate ground troopers in the battlefield that needed air support, I and Lorna had sought for counsel and prayer support. I did feel my vulnerability as a father in crisis. I talked with a Pastor, my mentor, who I knew had a similar problem with his son in the past. There was one statement that encouraged me among the many things he said, that is, “Don’t worry, your daughter will become better and mature after learning from her mistakes.” I heard it as a paraphrase of Romans 8:28.

Don’t worry, your daughter will become better and mature after learning from her mistakes.

Moreover, I called the core leaders of the church for a special meeting and broke the news to them. I gave them enough details necessary. I dreaded the thought that when my daughter shall arrive unexpectedly and they will begin speculating. They must know the truth from me. It was imperative to shield my daughter’s volatile emotions from possible insensitive questions from tackless friends. Their support was overwhelming. Indeed, a problem shared is a problem halved.

It was imperative to shield my daughter’s volatile emotions from possible insensitive questions from tackless friends.

Aika flew back home after her almost three-week stay in Chicago. At an opportune time, I talked with her, one-on-one, in our bedroom. As she sat at the edge of the bed, I saw her as the same sheepish teenager I did talk a few years back. This time, however, she had matured considerably. Since young, she has been a sweet girl. I listened attentively as she related the details. Having her eyes welling up, she said once again, “Dad, I am very sorry. Babawi ako, Dad.” Aside from the many things I said, this was what I said clearly, “Like God’s love, I and your mom’s love toward you hasn’t changed for what you did. We have forgiven you as God did. Our concerns aren’t the loss of money, time, opportunity, and esteem before people. What we were afraid of is for you to end up being bitter and losing your faith in God.”

I really prayed hard for His wisdom beforehand, so I had peace in this heart-to-heart talk. Her spiritual state was what I deemed paramount. It was at stake. Success in her studies was far second. I have to communicate and elucidate in her heart what I and she should value first and foremost – her relationship with God. Then, we agreed that she will go back and finish her course at the same college. There were no other expectations. Both of us were tearful, as we ended praying and hugging each other.

Her spiritual state was what I deemed paramount. It was at stake. Success in her studies was far second.

My one-on-one talk with her about the past issues became the first and the last time. Giving her space afterward, aside from time, had effectively helped her to get at her feet again. It was empowerment. One word is enough for a wise woman. Repeating a matter is a sign of distrust, isn’t it? We interacted at home as if nothing had happened. All the while, I took Jack Graham’s wise counsel to my heart earnestly, that is, to “Talk less, listen more, and pray the most.” Indeed, God’s grace is more than sufficient in times of our weakness⁴. In the next five months, I noticed that my daughter had steadily pulled through the crisis. She had been praying and reading her bible. Once again, I was seeing the bubbly and energetic Aika I knew.

The time came when we had to send her off at Changi airport to fly back to the U.S. again. As she passed through the Immigration counter, I saw her smiling and waving profusely before she walked fast and vanished. I turned around with a deep sigh of relief. I thanked God that my daughter had left as a renewed eagle⁴ ready to soar into the heights and pursue her dreams, once more. And certainly, I knew she had stronger wings this time.