Today...

...is my father's birthday. He's been gone from this life for three years now, long enough that I'm beginning to have trouble "hearing" his voice, but I'll never forget his laughter, his twinkling blue eyes, or the joy it gave him when MY birthday fell on Father's Day. I was born on his first Father's Day, so it was a special pleasure on those occasions every few years when the dates meshed.

Born in 1930 at the beginning of the Depression, Dad was very much a product of his times and his heritage. He enlisted in the US Navy at 15 by means of an altered birth certificate (which I still have), partly as a way of supporting his family...he used one of his first paychecks to buy his mother a set of dimestore china, the first full set of dishes she ever owned. By the time Dad wore a sailor's uniform, his father was disabled, living on a tiny railroad pension and struggling to support his wife and sons. But those sons took their responsibilities to their parents as a sacred privilege, and they gave back at every opportunity. Dad used his innate intelligence and Depression-era work ethic to build a successful career in the Air Force (he gave up the Navy when I came along, having no more taste for the long months at sea) and gave my brothers and me a life rich with travel and books and good food. Most important, he instilled in us a love for the Father and for His people, the church. All these gifts enrich me still, and I give thanks for Dad's life and witness. His earthly life stretched just into this millennium; his influence will live far beyond.

Happy birthday, Dad--we'll share a Sunday again soon.