December 7 is a date that many remember as Pearl Harbor Day.

December 7 holds additional meaning for me.

I remember my Dad as gentle. He never raised his voice or yelled.

I remember my Dad as a Bible scholar...always reading and studying.

I remember that my Dad broke C of C lines as he had Saturday prayer meetings with Catholics, Pentecostal, and even "one-cuppers".

I remember he struggled...really struggled with depression.

I remember listening to him talk about heaven, and being with God, and how much he was looking forward to that.

I remember my Dad coming in every night to tuck me into bed and telling me the story that always began..."once upon a time, there was a beautiful little girl..." I never tired of the story of my adoption according to Dad.

I remember my Dad could tell a joke.

And boy, oh boy, could he sneeze! That man scared us to death with his sneezes!

I remember my Dad bought my Mom really pretty clothes. For the most part, church clothes. Nice clothes. Things she would never have bought for herself.

I remember my Dad thanking my Mom for the good dinner...every single night.

I remember my Dad telling me there was something special about Lex.

I remember putting Ashley on his lap in this cute little stiff church outfit, and he said, "hasn't she worn this long enough? Can we take this off her so she can relax?"

I've often wished he had stuck around a little longer. There has been much to rejoice about in our family. Many good times and great blessings that I know, had he still been here, he would have enjoyed.

But, I also know he longed to be where he is...with God...for eternity.

Happy Birthday, Dad.