A House Divided

A house divided against itself, cannot stand. I believe this government cannot endure, permanently, half slave and half free. I do not expect the Union to be dissolved — I do not expect the house to fall — but I do expect it will cease to be divided. It will become all one thing or all the other. Either the opponents of slavery will arrest the further spread of it, and place it where the public mind shall rest in the belief that it is in the course of ultimate extinction; or its advocates will push it forward, till it shall become lawful in all the States, old as well as new — North as well as South. — Abraham Lincoln

     The past few days have left me feeling quite discouraged. We are a nation that is divided against itself. It feels like the divide is getting wider by the day. My heart longs for a change in how we communicate with one another as fellow citizens and as human beings. We need leadership that will bring us together and unite us once again. We are divided by ideologies and political parties. We are divided by racial tensions and mistrust. We are divided by our socioeconomic status. We are divided by our religious beliefs. We are divided by our gender. We are divided! How will we stand?

     The answer is to begin a new conversation with one another. We must turn toward those whom we do not agree with and begin to listen. We all want to be heard and understood. I believe that the majority of people want to do justice and live in a world of kindness and compassion. So we must raise up leaders that will lead us toward these goals. 

     When Abraham Lincoln gave this speech in 1858 it was in hopes of becoming a US senator. He lost the race. However, he held onto his belief in uniting the country against slavery and continued the struggle to achieve that ultimate goal. A few years later, he got the chance to put his leadership into practice as the President of the United States. It took a bloody war that claimed 620,000 American lives before we could find our way to peace and unity again. Ultimately Lincoln paid the price for unity with his life. A wealthy, angry, confederate actor and a few of his friends plotted an assassination. You know how that turned out. 

     Lincoln's concept of a house divided was not original. He was quoting a very famous man named Jesus. As the story goes, Jesus was going around town healing people and showing kindness and compassion to those in need. This activity instilled fear in the rich and powerful leaders of his day. They accused Jesus of doing the devil's work. The bible tells us that Jesus knew their thoughts and replied with these famous words:  

“Every kingdom divided against itself is brought to desolation, and every city or house divided against itself will not stand.”  Matthew 12:25 

Jesus had a vision for peace and unity on earth. This is the message that he preached and lived. He was what some people would call a "do gooder." He walked the earth doing good, seeking justice, and caring for those in need. Doing the right thing can be very costly. The rich and powerful men of  Jesus day got together and plotted an assassination. You know how that turned out.

     Hope is what keeps us moving forward. Hope comes from resurrection. After the Civil War, the country was resurrected from the ashes. We came to see that we needed to find a way forward out of the chains of slavery. While we have made great strides in that direction, we still have a long way to go. Just look at all the unrest that we find ourselves in today. We must work together to bring justice and unity and peace to our nation. Lincoln's vision and leadership was to bring hope and unity to America. Jesus' vision and leadership was to bring hope and unity to the world. Out of the ashes of the crucification came the hope of resurrection! Hope is about new beginnings. Both of these men gave up their lives to see their vision fulfilled. Let us move forward together in this time of social unrest for the  hope  of our country and ultimately for the hope of the world!

Violence Against Women

Anita Hill

     I love watching movies because other people's stories inform me about my life. I recently viewed the HBO movie entitled, Confirmation. The movie is about the 1991 hearings conducted by the Senate Judiciary Committee regarding the allegations brought against Clarance Thomas of Sexual Harassment by Anita Hill. I remember watching this hearing back in 1991. Anita Hill was in her mid thirties back then and so was I. As the story goes, there are two opposing views on what really happened between Anita Hill and Clarance Thomas. It was basically a he said, she said, situation. So when a movie is made about an historical event there will always be controversy. People on both sides come out to defend their position. 

     What struck me in reliving this historical moment was that Ms. Hill did not go looking for trouble; it came knocking on her doorstep. It did not go well for her to speak out against the powers that be; that being the Republican party and the President of the United States. This was a woman who was the valedictorian of her high school graduating class, graduated with honors in college and then graduated with honors from Yale Law School. I doubt that it was ever her dream to bring down a potential supreme court judge. In the years following her testimony at the hearings, she received death threats, bomb threats, and sexual violence threats. Her reputation was drug through the mud. This was a high price to pay for an aspiring young woman. Her decision to speak out changed the course of her life. 

     Another interesting fact from the movie, and yes, I checked and it was factual, was Ms. Hill's willingness to take a lie detector test regarding her testimony. She was found to be truthful. Clarance Thomas refused to take such a test.

     So how prevalent is violence against women in our world? The answer to this question is easy to find. Just listen to the women in your own life. Listen to their stories of sexual harassment, of gender discrimination, of sexual abuse. These are struggles that all women share around the globe.

     I have my own stories. Growing up female had its challenges. When I was a very small child, I was at the home of a close family friend. The man of the house was a deviant man. He like to expose himself in public. One day while I was at his house he walked out of the bathroom toward me with his pants down. I was very scared and confused at his behavior. At the time I didn't tell anyone. This created a new and lasting fear in me. 

     Later in my life, when I was thirteen and becoming a young woman, life with boys became quite difficult and confusing. Just like every young girl my age, I wanted to be liked and accepted by boys. I still remember the first time a boy groped me at a party.   These years of my life were spent fending off unwanted sexual advances from boys. Often times boys were very aggressive with me sexually and this created more fear in me. I spent a lot of time running away from boys. I lost boyfriends because I didn't want to engage in sexual activity. These are just a few examples of the indignities that I have suffered at the hands of boys. 

     Throughout my adult life there have been many more times that I have been misjudged by men because of my gender. I was fortunate to find the love of my life in my early twenties and I have enjoyed the love and affection of this man for the past thirty-seven years. I am thankful for the kindness, gentleness and respect that he has given to me as his wife and as a woman. We have had many conversations about the struggles that women face in our world. We have not always agreed but we are always willing to listen to one another. 

     The struggles that I have encountered in my life pale in comparison to what many woman have had to endure. As a spiritual director I have listened to many women and the suffering that they have lived through. My hope is that we can find strength and solidarity as women by sharing our stories. 

Do you have a story to tell?

Love Keeps No Record Of Wrongs...

     

     I spent this past month visiting with my daughter and her family in Tennessee. My two year old granddaughter, June was learning about the consequences of hurtful behavior. So needless to say she was encouraged to apologize for hurting others. She would come to me and say, "Sorry Grammers" and I would say, "I forgive you." Since she is only two, she still repeats what she hears. So after a few times of this pattern, she started says, Sorry Grammers, I forgive you. She obviously does not understand what the words, "I forgive you" mean yet.

     I've been thinking about forgiveness lately. I have heard countless sermons on the topic over the years. Being able to say that we are sorry is a humbling experience and forgiveness is something that never gets easy. It is something that we grow into over the course of a lifetime. We will never run out of opportunities to exercise forgiveness because as flawed human beings, we end up doing and saying things that bring suffering to others. This means that we will also never run out of opportunities to be forgiven as well.

     Is it possible to forgive and forget? As a child, I heard this motto often. After all, the Bible tells us that God forgives us and forgets our transgressions. So is it possible for us to forgive and forget? I mean lets face it when someone deeply wounds us there will often be lasting scars to remind of the offense. The good thing about scars though, is that they leave a mark but the pain goes away. 

     The way I see it there are a couple ways to walk in forgiveness. We can say that we forgive and continue to pick at the scabs of our wounds, keeping the pain alive and well. This prolongs the healing process. We do this by dwelling on the offenses of others. We don't let them off the hook. We choose to remember the offense by talking or thinking about it ad nauseam. So if and when another conflict arises we are quick to bring up past offenses. I see this as incomplete forgiveness. Maybe over time we quietly let go of the past, maybe not.

     Another way to walk in forgiveness is to clean the wound out. I see this as an act of reconciliation. I personally find it very helpful to sit down with the person that I am in conflict with and seek to find deep understanding of one another. I know that this is risky business but the rewards are plentiful. So often conflict in relationships leaves open wounds for both parties involved. Having the courage to listen and to be heard can produce a deep cleansing and healing affect on each person. This is the hard work of lasting forgiveness! I am aware that this may not always be necessary for true healing to occur. It is possible to let go of the past and move forward without this step. The key is whether we are able to move toward one another in love. Have we let go of past offenses? Or are they having a lingering effect in our hearts hindering love?

     So the forgetting part of forgiveness is really about letting go. When we hang on to the past and carry grudges toward others, our forgiveness is incomplete. We may be on the road toward forgiving but we have not crossed the finish line.

I gave my granddaughter the shirt she is wearing in the photo above. It says, "Love is everything"

Ending the Cold War In Relationships!

Every day, somewhere in the world, an incident occurs that we know as a hit and run. Usually the incident is an accident but there are also occasions when the hit was intentional. When a person causes harm or death by striking someone with their vehicle, it is lawful to stop and exchange information with one another. The right course of action is to restore peace to one another and to make restitution for the damages that have occurred. So why do people chose to run? I think that the primary reason is out of fear. When you find yourself at fault in a situation it can be extremely difficult to take responsibility for your actions, it's much easier to run.

I have found that this can also describe what happens in relationships at times. Have you ever experienced a hit and run type of relationship? Have you ever had someone that you love hurl accusations and abuses toward you, and then cut you off? Have you been told that your point of view is not relevant or welcomed? Or maybe you are the person who has done the hitting. What this creates is a personal Cold War between people.  

The term Cold War, describes tension without large scale fighting. The Cold War began just two short years after World War II. The Soviet Union and the United States were allies in defeating the Nazis. Unfortunately, the relationship between these two countries deteriorated quickly. The reason for this split was because of many things, but I think that one of the most powerful reasons was fear. Both countries wanted power and control. The Americans were afraid of communism and the Russians were afraid of the atomic bomb. Germany became divided politically between the communist east and the democratic west. This caused the erection of the Berlin wall in 1961. This was East Germany’s attempt at keeping people from fleeing the oppressive communist regime and finding freedom in the west. The Cold War lasted for more than forty years. What finally ended the Cold War was for Mikhail Gorbachev to initiate a series of summit meetings with Ronald Reagan. These two world leaders were able to work together to create a better world. Communism began to tumble in Europe, the Berlin wall was torn down and the reduction of nuclear weapons began. Without the willingness for both parties to come to the table and talk, there could be no possibility for peace. Mikhail Gorbachev opened the door for significant healing and change to begin in the world by his willingness to sit down and talk.

Life is difficult and relationships can get messy at times. I think that life is to short to allow years to go by with unresolved conflict between family and friends. So if you find yourself in a hit and run situation or an ongoing Cold War, what can you do? If you are the one that has been hit then you can move forward by way of forgiveness and a willingness to listen. Chances are that there is fault on both sides of the table.  If you are the one who has run away, then you can come back to the table and find restoration in the relationship. When we choose to turn toward one another, we find peace. When we run away from each other we erect walls that divide. These walls create much pain and suffering. The sad truth is that there can be no end to a Cold War without both parties wanting peace and restoration. It takes courage to end a Cold War. You have to be willing to honestly look at yourself.

What people remember most about the end of the Cold War are the famous words of Ronald Reagan, “Mr. Gorbachev, tear down this wall.” If you find yourself with the power to tear down a wall that is causing division in a relationship with someone whom you love, then I would encourage you, by all means to tear down the wall and end the Cold War!

I am reminded of the description of the action of love found in the Bible:

Love is patient, love is kind and is not jealous; love does not brag and is not arrogant, does not act unbecomingly; it does not seek its own, is not provoked, does not take into account a wrong suffered,  does not rejoice in unrighteousness, but rejoices with the truth; bears all things, believes all things, hopes all things, endures all things. Love never fails!

We do not need to live our lives controlled by fear. 

Perfect love casts out fear. 

So if love is present, then there is hope!

Remembering Brad

   

      Eleven years ago today, I was giving a birthday party for my sister and brother-in-law at my house in Burbank, California. After the candles on the birthday cake had been blown out, the phone rang. It was our niece calling from Vancouver, Washington to tell us that, Bruce's brother, Brad had been in a terrible accident. Brad was actually killed in the line of duty as a law enforcement officer. That day broke many hearts. 

     So now every year on July 30th we are reminded of how much we miss Brad and of the hole that was created in our hearts through one man's act of rage and violence.

     This morning Bruce and I went out to the crash site to remember Brad and pray for healing. The violence that occurred on that site affected many people. This memorial was created by the family that lives at this site. They did not know Brad but felt compelled to

honor him in this way. Today as we were sitting on the log that is placed in front of the cross, the woman that lives there came out and talked to us. She told us that the neighborhood changed after Brad's murder. The people of this quiet neighborhood were deeply shaken. Murder and violence create lasting trauma. 

     Brad was 49 years old when he died. It is strange when someone dies an untimely death. He will never be older than 49 in our minds. We on the other hand, keep getting older which reminds us of how much life Brad has missed. I wish that he was still with us, growing old with us; sharing life with his family and friends. Instead, he lives in our memories and in our hearts. It is good to remember!

This photo was taken a month before Brad died, at his son's wedding. This is his granddaughter, Darby. She just celebrated her 13th birthday. I wish that he could have been here to celebrate this milestone with us. He really loved his grandkids!

"Real Struggle Marks Us For Life"

    Writing is a time consuming endeavor and I enjoy the process greatly. However, I like to write when I feel inspired and lately I have not found much inspiration worthy of sharing. So I have decided to ask other people in my life to share their stories as guest bloggers from time to time. My first guest blogger is Julie Bracken. She has a powerful story to tell and I believe that her life and story will be a strength and encouragement to many. Thank you Julie for sharing your life experience with us!

Julie Bracken
    
      I am the only child of northern European parents. My dad was an engineer at Boeing in Seattle; my mom was a stay-at-home mother.  My dad was raised Methodist, but didn’t attend. My mom was a strong, quiet Lutheran woman who took me to church every Sunday. Our life when I was young was comfortable, both financially and personally.

     In 1970, when I was fourteen years old, my mother died suddenly of a brain aneurysm; the cause of her death I only found out years later. My father was destroyed by the loss.  He couldn’t talk to me about what had happened, or what would happen in the future. He arranged to have women from mom’s church come in the next day, even before the funeral, and remove all of my mom’s clothes and many of her personal belongings. It was as if he tried to make our life seem like my mother had never existed.

     The whole experience, from that first day and for many years to come, was a struggle for me. I didn’t cry for her; no one told me that I could. I put on a happy face and I worked hard to be a responsible, straight A student like I had always been.

     I quit going to church; mom wasn’t there to take me. But I never quit praying. Right after her death I would pray to God daily to never allow her memory, what she looked like, to slip from my mind. I had no photographs and dad left none in the house. I was frightened that I would lose the only vision I had of her.

     My struggle with her death was a process, not a single event.  In Scarred by Struggle, Transformed by Hope, Joan Chittister says that struggle always happens just when it seems we have everything we ever wanted. She writes, “It is a sudden, unforeseen interruption of our perfect lives, the thing we thought would never happen to us…”. 

     Having not processed her death adequately, I wandered for years unable to feel emotions; either happy or sad, either delighted or broken. In this darkness of my spirit I wrestled with feelings; the anger that comes with a loss and the feeling of abandonment.

     But I couldn’t express this struggle outward. I never spoke of my mom, her death, or my longing for her. I never spoke of my struggle.  And, as might be expected, the weight of that struggle tore me down. Chittister says, “Struggle is never done without cost.  Real struggle marks us for life”. 

     It took decades, but recently I was able to confide in a psychologist what I had kept secret for so many years. And, while the loss has been processed and the emotions shared, it can never be undone. 

     I had guilt about my mom’s death. I knew I didn’t kill her. But as a child I believed that my struggle, my feeling of loss, must have been something that I brought on myself; I should have been able to make the pain go away. Forgiveness is not just for the other guy, as N.T. Wright wrote in Evil and the Justice of God, I first need to forgive myself. He says that if God has forgiven me, as part of living an authentically Christian life, I must forgive myself as well. I know that I am often hard on myself; that I expect myself to be a better person. My failure to express my emotions after mom’s death was a struggle.  It is through seeing God’s forgiveness of my sins that I need to learn to forgive myself. 

     In Jerry Sittser’s book, A Grace Disguised, he writes, “We cannot change the situation, but we can allow the situation to change us. We exacerbate our suffering needlessly when we allow one loss to lead to another. That causes gradual destruction of the soul”. The loss of my mother lead to the loss of or the inability to express my emotions appropriately.  Sittser says that this is the loss that happens inside us, the second death.

     Sittser goes on to say that we must enter the darkness of loss alone, but once there we will find others with whom we can share life together.  He says that “when people suffering loss do find community, it comes as a result of conscious choices they and other people make”. After many years of struggling I made the choice to seek out help, to share my loss, and thereby start the process of emotional healing.

     Chittister says that “Hope, the response of the spiritual person to struggle, takes us from the risk of inner stagnation, of emotional despair, to total transformation of life”.  And most importantly, she says that, “Hope is a series of small actions that transform darkness into light.  It is putting one foot in front of the other when we can find no reason to do so at all”. 

     I also believe that we have all known resurrection in our lives.  Each of us has been crucified in one way or another.  And we’ve all been raised up again. 

     Throughout my struggle I often asked “Why”. But, in the light of everything I have been given, I have no grounds for blaming God for my loss.  The call to faith is not the call to surrender to a God who tries creation for the sake of trial.  It is a call to believe, as Jacob who struggles through the night, that though we are in darkness, the dawn will come in its due time.  With the help of the Holy Spirit, we need to look into the struggle to find out what the blessing is.  I believe that if God is in the depth of the heart, no amount of darkness can extinguish that presence.

     It was a difficult transformation to relive my mother’s death and appreciate the hidden emotions associated with it.  I can now talk freely about her death, my loss, and my feeling of abandonment.  I also can express my emotions about other situations in my life. It was a long struggle. And even though the suffering is less now, I know that I will forever long for the closeness of my mother in my life. 

“When we suffer, we long for it to end. When we are in pain, time crawls. It also darkens and imprisons our imagination; consequently, we are unable to see beyond the suffering that plagues us…Unlike the world of matter, in the world of spirit a whole territory that has lain fallow can become a fertile area of new potential and creativity.  Time behaves differently in the domain of spirit.”  

                  John O’Donohue in To Bless the Space Between Us.

Remembering my Dad

   

   

Philip Andersen

   I have been thinking a lot about my dad lately. He was and is such a great influence in my life. I know that there are many people who have had the misfortune of losing their mom or dad at a young age but I was blessed to share life with my dad for fifty years. Seven years ago my dad took his last breath. His last words were, "I love you" spoken to my mom. I was not there when he left us and I will always wish that I had been present with him at this moment. 

     My dad taught me how to fully embrace life. Whatever he was doing, he would put his whole heart into it. Growing up in his shadow was challenging. He was a fierce competitor in every way. This brought him a lot of success in his lifetime. He did not believe in giving up and this was evident in the way he lived and in the way he died.

     My dad experienced much suffering in his life. When he was a small boy, his little sister, June died. Whenever he spoke of her I could see and hear the love and affection he had for her and the grief the he carried. He grew up in a small town in Iowa and had many siblings. He was the youngest living child and was his mama's baby, even when he grew to be six foot four inches tall. She would often introduce him as her baby. 

     One summer, when my dad was home from college, he met "the girl next door" to his parents. He fell in love and married that girl. After a few years they began having children. When my oldest sister, Susan, was born there were complications during the birth, and so she suffered brain damage. My parents would not discover this until much later. As she grew, she did not develop skills as quickly as other children. It soon became apparent that something was wrong. My parents spent  years going to doctors and hospitals to help Susan. It was a very difficult time with deep suffering. One day my mom answered the phone and it was the hospital calling to tell her that my sister had died. She had been in the hospital recovering from surgery. This call came out of the blue. My parents had just been with her the day before and they were not expecting her to die. The shock of her death sent my parents reeling into deep grief. I know that they always wished that they had been present with Susan when she took her last breath. My sister died at the age of seven. Her life and death set the stage for my childhood. 

     

Connie and Susan

Two years after Susan was born, my sister, Connie came into the world. Her birth was a fast and furious one. I have often heard the story from my mom of the nurses telling her to keep her legs together until the doctor arrived. The fifties were such an interesting time for women in childbirth. Obviously the medical profession did not understand natural childbirth. Connie became mom's little helper. She had to help with Susan who was a hand full and then I came along and so she had to help with me as well.  I was the third girl to be born and because of a difficult birth my mother would have no other children. So I became the closest thing to a boy that my dad would ever have. He taught me how to play many sports and I was encouraged to be a strong, assertive person and to not show weakness. 

     After Susan's death, my dad worked hard to take care of his grieving wife and two small daughters. Unfortunately, I don't think he knew what to do with his own grief. Within the next few years my dad's parents died and also my mom's dad died. As I was growing up, I watched my dad grow angry. I did not understand what he was so angry about. I was to young to connect the dots of his suffering that finally led him down that path of anger. I was very young when he was walking through those dark valleys and so when he started to release his anger I was puzzled. 

     My dad had his first heart attack when I was fourteen years old. I was away at camp and got a phone call that my dad was in the hospital. I wished that I had been home so that I could be present with him. I remember walking into his hospital room and thinking that he looked very old and grey. It was scary. He spent the rest of his life suffering with a broken heart. A few years later my dad's oldest brother, Peter, underwent open heart surgery. Sadly, he died on the operating table. I watched my dad fall to pieces when he heard the news. This was a whole side of my dad that I had never seen before. All of the pain and grief that he had bottled up inside burst like the breaking of a dam. I held him in my arms as he sobbed. 

     It wasn't long before my dad's heart disease had progressed and it was his turn to have surgery. He was so scared. He was afraid that he would die just like his brother. Seeing him before his surgery was a powerful moment. I saw my big strong dad in a very vulnerable state. He was very openly affectionate and told us how much he loved us. It was clear that he thought he may never see us again. Fortunately the operation was a success and my dad lived to see his grandchildren grow into adulthood. He was a fabulous grandad. He took great interest in each of his grandchildren and was a strong and powerful presence in their lives. We spent many years going on vacations together and I will cherish all of the sweet memories of those times.

     My dad was such a fighter. When he was seventy-five years old, he was out golfing one day when his heart suddenly stopped. He just happened to be golfing with a friend of his who was a doctor and so his friend administered CPR for fifteen minutes until the ambulance arrived. Laying there on the golf course, the paramedics had to shock his heart twice to get him back. We were later told that the paddles only work about one in every hundred tries. My dad was not ready to leave us. At the hospital the doctor told us that my dad would probably not live through the night and if he did live that he would probably not have any brain function. He did live through the night and then spent the next five weeks in the ICU fighting to stay alive. It was quite an emotional roller coaster ride for the rest of the family. One day he was up and the next day he was down. While he was fighting for life, my sister Connie graduated from seminary. Even though my dad could not be there to witness this moment, his spirit was with us. We were all so proud of Connie for her accomplishment but I know that it was bittersweet for her that day because my dad could not be there. He would have been the proudest of all. He did finally make a full recovery. The trauma had taken a toll on his body, but his mind was as sharp as ever. I watched my dad spend the next five years, until his death, reflecting on his life. He went through a spiritual transformation as he made peace with the life that he had lived. I had many thoughtful conversations with him during those final years of his life. I wish now, that I could have a few more. Those last five years gave him the chance to see two of his grandchildren graduate from college. He also got to dance at his grandson's wedding. I'm glad that he fought to stay with us. We all miss him so much.

    To be human is to love. To be human is to suffer. Love and suffering go hand in hand. The greater you love the more you will suffer. Losing those we love through death is the greatest suffering of all. And yet we would not trade the life that we shared with them for anything. It is this shared life that we carry with us forever. As I said earlier, my dad still influences my life through the memories I carry. He is a part of me and I see his influence in the lives of my children and grandchildren. 

     As I write these words, two of my cousins are fighting for life. My cousin Jeri has been clinging to life because of the great love that she has for her family and friends. She has endured great suffering over that past year as cancer has invaded her body. She has not let it take her without a fight. Again we are experiencing the reality of love and suffering together. For those of us that know Jeri, we share in her suffering because we love her.

     My cousin Julie is suffering with a broken heart. She has suffered from a heart attack and cardiac arrest. She has endured much suffering in her lifetime. I feel that pain that she and her family are experiencing right now. Julie is a kind-hearted soul. I remember her as a child and how much she loved her family. She was always happy to see you. As she lays in her hospital bed clinging to life we are once again seeing love and suffering mixed together.

     Because my dad came from such a large family, I have lots of cousins. My dad loved all of his nieces and nephews and so I was blessed to know my cousins and have a relationship with them while I was growing up. Even though as an adult I have not spent much time with my cousins, because of my dad, I carry them in my heart. My dad was always moved with deep compassion for those whom he saw suffering. He would always move toward them and be present in their suffering. He passed this desire to relieve suffering on to me and my sister. I am thankful for that legacy.

     
     Today is Veteran's Day and it is also my dad's birthday. He loved it that his birthday fell on a holiday. He was also a veteran. He loved to celebrate life and so today I celebrate him. 

Happy Birthday Dad, I love you.