Always on Call

                                       In Memory of James Edward "Eddie" Hamby.
                                       November 15, 1945-July 21, 2014

Driving home one day, I noticed a patrol car parked at a house.  I soon learned not only who it  belonged to, but how important that car was to Regency Park neighborhood.  The patrol car belonged to an Anderson County Deputy, Eddie Hamby.  Eddie passed away in July, 2014.  Regency Park misses that car and the man  we could always call on who made us feel safe.

Sergeant Eddie Hamby served Anderson County as a deputy for thirty-three years, leaving an exemplary work ethic for not only deputies, but an entire community.  Anderson County Sheriff's office promises to safeguard the lives, property and constitutional rights of citizens and maintain order through a constant and visible law enforcement presence.  All of our personnel are committed and compelled to the rule of law and its professionalism.  According to Sheriff John Skipper, Eddie went above and beyond and took this promise seriously.  He worked over and extra duty to complete a job.  "Eddie was stern when necessary but compassionate. He was truly dedicated to his community and the people that live in it."  

Sheriff Skipper believes Eddie was an example to others. "He worked a good bit of his career in warrant and civil division serving papers. He was always at the top of the list for most served, and we assigned new officers to ride with him to learn his work ethic." His son, Deputy Scott Hamby, says his dad never missed a day of work because someone else would have to pick up his slack.  "He loved his job with a full heart." 

Deputy Eddie Hamby kept his promise to safeguard the community and its citizens. One of his duties as a deputy was helicopter observer for the pilot, Sheriff Skipper.  Eddie loved to fly and did an excellent job as an observer, spotting suspects, watching for other aircraft, and running the radio, video camera and thermal imaging system.  When they were flying once, the dash started smoking and the cockpit was filling fast. "Eddie's training kicked in. He opened his window so the smoke would draw to his side of  the cockpit, away from the pilot so the pilot could see.  He started the emergency shut-down, announced on the radio we had an emergency and our location, which allowed me to land the helicopter without incident."

Eddie's wife, Brenda, knew being a deputy was Eddie's calling.  He was a man of faith and served not only his neighborhood, but also his church, Centerville Baptist. One of Eddie's favorite Bible passages was one of a Shepherd's service. 

Psalm 23.

The Lord is my shepherd;  I have all that I need.
He lets me rest in green meadows; he leads me beside peaceful streams.
He renews my strength. He guides me along right paths, bringing honor to his name.
Even when I walk  through the darkest valley, I will not be afraid, for you are close beside me.
Your rod and your staff  protect and comfort me.
You prepare a feast for me in the presence of my enemies.
You honor me by anointing my head with oil. My cup overflows with blessings.
Surely your goodness and unfailing love will pursue me all the days of my life,
and I will live in the house of the Lord
 

Eddie's cup overflowed with blessings of family and friends. If they needed something repaired or needed to borrow tools or even money in a crunch, he was there.  He instilled in his family the need to always be positive.  He taught his children to treat people the way they wanted to be treated. Eddie delighted in his grandchildren and great-grandchildren who called him Poppy or Papa.  He shared his love of aviation and racing with friends, hardly ever missing a race. Eddie liked to ride go-carts with his friend, Billy.  Eddie loved nature.  He and Brenda traveled frequently with friends Billy and Belinda Finley to the mountains, usually Cades Cove, where they enjoyed old cabins and preserved churches and the peaceful waterfalls and abundant wildlife. 


Eddie, an Army veteran, was called to serve, and his family knew it.  Following in his dad's footsteps, Scott witnessed his father's influence and dedication to his community.  Dad started law enforcement when I was 6 years old, and I remember sitting on the swing set waiting on him to get home. I'd help wash his patrol car and always asked him if he chased bad guys that day.  Almost everywhere I go, someone asks if I'm Eddie Hamby's son, and proudly I state "yes." I always hear, "your dad was a great man." Even people he arrested say, "I was trouble back then, but your dad helped me."  I even had a few people tell me "if I became half the man he was I will go far in life." That makes me proud.

Deputy Sharon Carroll worked with her brother Eddie, her rock and hero always watching over. In fact, he tried to talk her out of law enforcement because it was dangerous for a woman.  He had a great outlook on life and was happy most all the time.  He liked to joke around and make people laugh.  I learned a lot from Eddie.  He was my Sergeant for a few years, but the best thing of all I got to see him at work 5 days a week for more than 20 years.  I wouldn’t take anything for that.

Verses three and four of Psalm 23 remind us of a shepherd's protection.

Even when I walk  through the darkest valley, I will not be afraid, for you are close beside me.
Your rod and your staff  protect and comfort me.
Regency Park neighborhood experienced deputy Hamby's commitment to the protection of Anderson County. Sheriff Skipper encourages deputy involvement in their communities, and Eddie kept his promise to us as a constant and visible law enforcement presence. He started our neighborhood watch program and maintained a watchful eye on Regency Park along with us.  I miss his car, miss knowing there was someone here we could call on any day, anytime.  

Brenda says she also misses his car sitting in the yard.  It always made me and all our neighbors feel safer while it was here. After he got sick, he would get up each morning and tell me how much he wanted to go back to work. He still talked about going back even when he went to the VA Nursing Home. And no matter what day or time, if someone here called him about a problem in Regency Park, even if it was a day off, he would get in his car and go and try and help with the situation. I thought about that this weekend when someone went to our playground and did "donuts" in the grassy area, tearing it up.  I know if he were still here, he would not stop until he found the person responsible for such a senseless act.

I'm certain the entire neighborhood agrees with her.  Always on call. Always willing to help. He was called to serve and protect his family, friends, neighborhood, and Anderson County until the job was done.  He believed citizens shouldn't be afraid in their own homes, so he helped us maintain order. We have a right to feel safe, so he taught us not only to be watchful, but to call if our safety was in question and we needed assurance, no matter how big or small the problem.

This was the life of a man called to enforce laws that protect us. This was the life of Sergeant Eddie Hamby, Anderson County Deputy. He will always be missed.  "I miss him every day. But I'm thankful and blessed to have had a wonderful man and father to raise me."  Deputy Scott Hamby

Regency Park was lucky to have Eddie Hamby. Whether we knew him personally or recognized his car, we had an Always on Call a phone call away. His car is no longer visible, but  he was called to help us be watchful and look after each other. I'm personally not afraid to call law enforcement if needed.  I'm promised that protection along with the protection of the Shepherd of Psalm 23 whose law and presence protect and comfort me.

Like Eddie, He's always on call, too.


Katy
A tremendous thank you to Eddie's wife, Brenda; his son, Scott; his sister, Sharon, and Sheriff John Skipper.  

Eddie was a member of the Fraternal Order of Police, an organization committed to improving the working conditions of law enforcement officers and the safety of citizens through education, legislation, information, community involvement, and employee representation.  The South Carolina FOP is the voice of those who dedicate their lives to protecting and serving our communities.  To donate to South Carolina Fraternal Order of Police, http://www.scfop.org/

No Snakes in Ireland

 

Happy St. Patrick's Day, 1,554 years after the death of a man responsible for ridding an entire country of that sly creature, the snake.  This myth probably originated when the Patron Saint of Ireland converted thousands of Emerald Island pagans to Christianity.  Actual snakes were never in Ireland, thanks to an impassable barrier.

 

The serpent was the shrewdest of all the wild animals the Lord God had made. One day he asked the woman, “Did God really say you must not eat the fruit from any of the trees in the garden? Genesis 3:1 NLT

Eden had a particular serpent, an early snake, which we often refer to as the tempter or the deceiver. Genesis tells us he was shrewd: clever, smart and perceptive.  The synonym that makes me shutter the most is perceptive.  He's the ultimate stalker: observing, watching, learning, and anticipating.

Satan is waiting for the perfect time and the right environment, which brings me back to why there are no snakes in Ireland.  National Geographic.com blames the ice age.  Some animals from Britain reached Ireland before the sea became an impassible barrier, but "snakes never made it."  Mark Ryan, director of the Louisiana Poison Center agrees that the timing wasn't right for the sensitive cold-blooded reptiles to expand their range. "There are no snakes in Ireland for the simple reason they couldn't get there because the climate wasn't favorable for them to be there."

The timing wasn't right. The climate wasn't favorable.  Yes, Satan is constantly observing life, anticipating the right time, and anxiously waiting for the heart's climate to be favorable.  What are those favorable conditions? When I'm acting like a little devil? When I'm doing my own thing regardless of God's plan? Probably. Satan gladly shows up when I invite him for a walk. He'll take any condition I'll give him.  However, the scariest thing about the great deceiver is that he observes me and is the most interested in my own Emerald Island when I think he couldn't possibly reach me. A favorable condition for him is when I think I've done this great job of creating a barrier he cannot cross. I'm perfect prey when I'm sure he's no where in sight.

 
According to Pet Source, the most likely reason non-venomous snakes bite is simply because they are afraid. When given the choice between biting at you (the 5-6 foot tall giant that just stepped into its territory) or running away as fast as it can possibly slither...it will choose running away every time. If the snake however, feels cornered, or for whatever reason unable to hide, it will strike out at you.
 

When he's afraid.  When in the world is Satan ever afraid? There's only One he's afraid of, and it isn't me.  Or, at least, it isn't me alone.  Satan is afraid of his ultimate enemy, God, and will strike me when he perceives the Holy Spirit is present. 

So, Christ told us to stay one step ahead.
 

Look, I am sending you out as sheep among wolves. So be as shrewd as snakes and harmless as doves. Matthew 10:16  NLT

To fight Satan, we need to be equally as shrewd.  Another synonym for shrewd is Perspicacious -having a ready insight into and understanding of things, having keen mental perception and understanding; discerning.

St. Patrick didn't drive out actual snakes, and unfortunately, we'll never be rid of the shrewdest creature on earth. 

We're human, so of course, Satan is going to out-smart us at times.  But, like Ireland, we need impassable barriers. We need keen mental perception. Satan knows exactly what pulls me away from God.  If I also know, I stay one step ahead.  We cannot battle Satan alone. He's constantly looking for ways to sneak into our protected green grasses.  We need the One who will crush his shrewd head.  We need His Word for understanding and discernment. We need the wisdom of other intuitive and observant Christ followers. 

When is Satan most interested in you? What are your impassable barriers?

Happy St. Patrick's Day!

Katy 

 

 

 

                                                                 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Not Quite So Fast

We like fast, don't we?  Express Line. Drop a Dress Size This Week. High Speed Internet Access. Look Younger Overnight . Copy and Paste (an answer to my prayers). Spray Tan.  Compared to the good old days, we have it made in the 21st century.

Which is why I found this basket of products at The Cove, Billy Graham Training Center, so funny: Good Hair Day shampoo, In Good Condition hair conditioner, and Peace Be Still calming face and body lotion.  

If only hair styling was this simple. My one good hair day every month is the day I visit the salon, and honestly, that's it.  For decades, I've longed for a good hair day to equal "brush hair and wear pony tail."  I could buy every tool invented and still detest styling my hair.  Good Hair Day shampoo.  Promises, Promises. That's only step one.   In Good Condition hair conditioner isn't a stretch, though.  I'm all about conditioners, lotions, creams, and sun screens.  The faster they work, the better. 

I guess the product in the basket I found the most thought provoking was Peace Be Still calming face and body lotion.  IF ONLY.



James - Point. Lobos,
Carmel, Calif.

Imagine all we had to do every day was use Peace Be Still lotion and Voilá! We're good for the day.  We live with teenagers? No worries.  Our jobs are on the line? No problem. Our health is questionable? It's all good.  We've applied our lotion and now have quick and easy peace.  No up dog, down dog, tortoise or lotus position required.

I grew up as a constant worrier with frequent insomnia. Even though I went to church and learned Jesus was the Prince of Peace, I wrestled with depression, so for decades, peace was one thing I absolutely couldn't grasp but earnestly prayed for.  I want peace, and I want it NOW! 

Pitkins Curve
Big Sur, Calif.

At The Cove, I was lucky enough to hear Bob Hostetler, author of The Red Letter Life: 17 Words from Jesus to Inspire Simple, Practical, Purposeful Living.  As encouragement to us as writers, Bob said something I desperately needed to hear.  "We look for quick success."  Then, he quoted Friedrich Nietzsche,  "God looks for a long obedience in the same direction."

But all who listen to me will live in peace, untroubled by fear of harm. Proverbs 1:33

Those who love your instructions have great peace and do not stumble. Psalm 119:165

Because of God’s tender mercy, the morning light from heaven is about to break upon us, to give light to those who sit in darkness and in the shadow of death, and to guide us to the path of peace. Luke 1:78-79

Peace doesn't come instantly anymore than it comes in a calming body lotion. God says listen to me and love my instructions, and those two practices are neither fast nor natural. Instructions are only useful if they're followed.  Both practices require time.  They require time with the Prince of Peace. Notice Luke writes guide us to the path of peace. Listening and loving instruction begin with "a long obedience in the same direction." 

I'll always have worries because I'll always have troubles.  Sometimes in the middle of those worries, I do a great deal of talking and striving.  I've discovered that peace comes when I'm quiet long enough to listen and follow instructions.  The long enough is not minutes or hours.  Sometimes it's days or months or years.  Following God's instructions, no matter how much I fight them, protects me from sin, which leads me down the right path.  

In The Red Letter Life, Hostetler encourages readers to copy a paragraph that is Eugene Patterson's definition of Repentance from his book, A Long Obedience in the Same Direction.  Teshuvah, repentance, isn't an emotion.  It's a turning.  It's a decision to listen and love instruction. The last sentence of the paragraph states, "Repentance is a decision to follow Jesus Christ and become his pilgrim in the path of peace."

Are you looking for peace? It's a path, not a fast acting potion. It takes time. Slow down and listen, turn, and follow.

Katy

 

 

 
 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

  

 

 

 

 

 

Milk and Bread

Maybe panicking at the first mention of a snow or ice storm is a southern thing, but rushing to the grocery store and emptying the milk and bread shelves isn't necessarily a practice reserved for the be-prepared southerner.  The first reported milk shortage during a storm was in Pittsburg in 1950.  Credit is also given to New Englanders during the blizzard of 1978.  

Storms are inevitable, and the run for milk and bread is real.  I do it every year. What if driving is impossible and we're shut in for days?  Why milk and bread? We'll need food that stays with us.  Bread and milk make us full.  Bread and milk will sustain us for days. 

During Anderson's ice storm a few weeks ago, my home was without power for thirty hours. The roads were clear, so we weren't shut in.  We drove to a restaurant for lunch and spent the day at my mom's house enjoying her television, heat, and internet.  If the roads had been treacherous, though, I was prepared. Funny thing. I didn't even need my milk and bread; instead, I filled up on donuts,  pop tarts, and coffee heated by the fireplace. 

Wow, how times change.  A week later in anticipation of a predicted snow day that became a disappointing rain day, I watched the late night weather report.  In Greenville, South Carolina, a reporter standing in the snow detailed the state of the grocery store.  Expecting the usual, "the bread and milk shelves are almost empty," I heard something that made me laugh then shake my head.  He announced there was PLENTY of milk and bread in the grocery stores because instead of milk and bread, customers were buying beer and chips. Last year, it was beer and pop tarts.

I now understand why my grandmother didn't watch the news for the last ten years of her life.  This revelation spoke volumes to me.  It's a perfect picture of both society and ME.

“Sir,” they said, “give us that bread every day.” Jesus replied, “I am the bread of life. Whoever comes to me will never be hungry again. Whoever believes in me will never be thirsty. John 6:34-35

The crowd wanted the same manna God gave to the Israelites every day in the wilderness. So, why did Jesus refer to himself as bread, as this manna?  In the diet of early civilizations, bread was a staple. It sustained. It nourished.  Bread was something they couldn't live without.    

Like newborn babies, you must crave pure spiritual milk so that you will grow into a full experience of salvation. Cry out for this nourishment, now that you have had a taste of the Lord's kindness. I Peter 2:2

Do I crave spiritual milk? Am I hungry for the Bread of Heaven?  Or, do I fill up with everything else the world offers?  Who or what satisfies me? What brings me through the storm? People, things, pleasures, and successes? If I fill up with the empty calories of chips and beer (for me, it's coffee and donuts), I won't crave milk no matter how many vitamins are in each glass.  I'm already dehydrated from the coffee.  If I'm already full of sugar from the donuts, I don't want bread. What's more appealing today? Beer and chips? Coffee and donuts? Or, milk and bread?

Instead of the emptiness the world offers, Jesus, the bread of heaven, provides eternal life.  He satisfies the spiritual hunger of those who believe in Him.  He quenches the thirst of those who crave and cry out for nourishment.  We mature by feeding on God's word and relying on Him for growth and comfort during a storm.  

What fills you? Is it the Bread of Heaven? Or, do you, like me often, fill up on man's wisdom and pleasures? What do you crave during a storm? It is spiritual milk provided by God's word? Or do you, like me too often, crave the empty distractions of gossip, popularity, or approval of man?  What is your comfort during a storm?

Speaking of snow days.....My friend, Pastor Robbie Garrett, shared a message Sunday on patience through the storms of life.  http://graceviewchurch.com/sermons

Hungry for milk and bread?

Katy

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Family: Gold, Frankensense, and Myrrh

Written in Memory of my dad, James Edward Brown - April 9, 1934-December 24, 2014

This week, many of us will eat, laugh, and exchange gifts with family, and I'm willing to bet most of you have a family like mine who are like-minded and agree with each other 100% of the time. Whose family is like this? Anybody? I didn't think so.   

As a child, Christmas Eve and Christmas Day were not only about the manger and Santa Claus, they were about family, and anxiously waiting for the annual tradition of Christmas Eve with my dad's family, the Brown's, and then my mom's family, the Kings.

Growing up, my sister and I had four Brown cousins who were more like siblings.  At Grandmother and Granddaddy Brown's house, or Aunt Glenda's or Aunt Gladys' homes, or our own house, we played loudly, ate whatever we wanted (including the traditional Jane Parker fruit cake), and waited for what seemed like hours for the big secret to be revealed. WHO drew our names? And, what gift did they choose for us? Grandmother Brown knitted and crocheted; what did she make for us this year? The night progressed with wrapping paper flying, screams of "THANK YOU I LOVE IT," show and tell of presents beginning with the youngest, and more playing, running and laughing. Heaven forbid if we did or said anything bad. "You better say 'Sorry Santa.'" "Ok, Sorry Santa," because what if he saw or heard on Christmas Eve? We couldn't possibly risk that.  The night ended outside searching the sky for lights from Santa's sleigh.

Later on Christmas Eve or sometimes on Christmas Day, we made our way to my Grandmother King and Daddy Luke's beautiful home for more family fun with two more cousins we couldn't wait to see.  It was slightly less chaotic, but still fun.  My grandmother King was a wonderful cook and a gracious hostess who made each of us feel so special.  Daddy Luke served egg nog in crystal glasses, and both of them had wonderful stories to share and gifts to give.

As a child, my family was perfect, and no one could take their place.  Show and tell, "sorry Santa," and looking for sleigh lights faded with the decades, but we still read Luke 2:1-15 on Christmas Eve with the Brown family and eat whatever we want, expect now it's King fruit cake instead of Jane Parker.  On Christmas Day, I eat, laugh and play "dirty Santa" with my wonderful Glymph family.  And my King cousins and uncle and aunt visit during the holidays for more eating, laughing, and story-telling.   

"When they saw the star, they were filled with joy! ¹¹ They entered the house and saw the child with his mother, Mary, and they bowed down and worshiped him. Then they opened their treasure chests and gave him gifts of gold, frankincense, and myrrh."  Matthew 2:10-11

2010

The Magi traveled months, maybe years, in search of a king bearing gifts worthy of deity.  Of great value then and now, gold was a symbol of kingship on earth: the birthday of a King. Family was not just of great value to me when, as a child, I thought we were perfect. Even now that we don't see each other as often, it's of great value, providing me with history and traditions, both old and new.  My grandparents' strengths and weaknesses live with each family member while we continue life.

Not only was the perfume, Frankincense, a symbol of deity, it was also symbolic of God's willingness to become a sacrifice, wholly giving Himself up, analogous to a burnt offering. I can't think of more greater or difficult sacrifices than the ones we make for our family. Knowing each other the longest, we're familiar and see and deal with each others' flaws.

Decades ago, I watched Rudolph and Santa Claus Is Coming to Town. Today, I enjoy Christmas movies about real families with real problems who find ways to cope and continue traditions.  As hard as Clark Griswold tries, cousin Eddie, Aunt Bethany, and Uncle Lewis test him until he's ready to send them home. As dedicated a son, father, and husband as George Bailey is, the honorable life of his brother Harry and his absentminded Uncle Billy are straws that almost break his back.  Can you imagine being Emily Hobbs? Your workaholic husband reveals he has a love child who's an ELF?  Or Scott Calvin whose son doesn't even want to spend Christmas Eve with him. Then, there's poor Ralphie who wishes his Aunt Clara knew he was a boy.

Sometimes when families are together, there's a nice aroma of fellowship and fun, but every family has a cousin Eddie, Aunt Clara, Uncle Billy ( I left my purse at a restaurant tonight and also misplaced a gift card), or Walter Hobbs and Scott Calvin.

Hope & Glenda 1996

1979

Myrrh, an embalming oil and symbol of death, also symbolizes bitterness, suffering, and affliction; thus, Jesus would grow to suffer greatly.  All relationships have potential for bitterness, and every family member we love will eventually suffer.  We rarely know when family members will have their last Christmas with us, and each year after feels different.  I miss my Daddy Luke's egg nog, my grandmother King's stories, my Aunt Glenda's Russian tea mix, my Grandmother Brown's crocheted gifts, and my mother-in-law's (Reba Glymph) useful and unique gifts stored neatly in a large white gift bag. These traditions made the holiday special in the past, yet the celebrations are still very special because I celebrate the birth of a Savior with family.

I enjoy and laugh with the same cousins who waited anxiously for Santa.  No matter how absentminded or impatient I am, I have aunts, uncles, a sister, and two parents who love me.* Even though they make fun of me, I have a great time with my children.  I have the best husband and because of him, an incredible Glymph family with sisters and brothers in-law and nieces and nephews and Papa.  We have years of old traditions to continue and new traditions to make.

Merry Christmas,

Katy

* A big spirit was missing this Christmas.
My parents have had a difficult two years, so I had a feeling this would be my dad's last Christmas Eve.  His last Christmas Eve was last year, 2013. My dad died of a heart attack early in the morning December 24, 2014.  One of the reasons I looked forward to Christmas Eve was my dad's love of family and tradition. He was a big man with a bigger spirit who LOVED not only celebrating his Savior at Christmas but also his family.

We didn't have our Brown family Christmas Eve, but I imagined him walking through my front door with gifts to exchange and food.  He had made sure my sister bought boiled shrimp for his oldest grandson, Luke.  In the past, he gave each female Brown a box of chocolate covered cherries (I usually ate my box in one day).  When we had babies, Dad was the one who held them the most often.  He loved Christmas trees and all the decorations. I knew he would like my tree and the wreath I made. I pictured him seeing it. I imagined him telling stories, smiling the biggest smile because his family was together. 

Since he was the family patriarch, a role he took very seriously, he would pray before our meal. He would delight over the desserts. He would laugh the loudest.  I looked in the living room and pictured him sitting on the sofa while I cleaned up; he would tell me everything that happened and everything that was said as if I had just walked in and missed the entire party. He would wish things were like they used to be. He would be worried if he thought someone had a problem.  He would miss having little ones running around. He would leave tired but happy.

Christmas Day, he would come over for breakfast. I couldn't wait to show him the Disney photo album Santa brought David.  He would want to look at it over and over and comment on each picture.  He's in many pictures grinning from ear to ear like a big ole kid.  When I filled my plate with breakfast casserole (made by a special friend) and muffins, I imagined filling his plate, too.  We usually had pastries and bacon, and sometimes I made pancakes.  "Dad, we have bacon and coffee cake and pancakes." "I'll have some of all of it." I use my Christmas dishes, and he always liked that.  In a Christmas mug, he took his coffee with sugar.  I imagined him at the table with me eating and talking about Christmas.  

Then, we would exchange gifts.  Mom would open what Dad told me to buy her.  This year, he was going to give me money, but he saw me in a new skirt and sweater two Sundays ago and said, "I love that skirt.  That's what I want to give you for Christmas.  Wrap that up for me."  That makes me smile thinking about it.  I couldn't find another skirt like it, so I bought a different sweater to wear with it and couldn't wait to wear it to church and say, "thanks for the new outfit."  My kids would take their annual Christmas picture with Mom and Dad on the sofa.

He would look forward to the King Christmas and seeing more nieces and nephews, hearing about their lives, eating more goodies, and laughing the loudest.  We did have our King Christmas on Sunday afternoon. On Friday (family visitation) and Saturday (his funeral),his family and friends said goodbye and honored him. Christmas without him along with being around the people he loved so much made me realize and mourn his tremendous spirit. No one loved Christmas, friends, his church, or family more than my dad.  He would have hugged the longest, smiled the biggest, laughed the loudest, and been the proudest of all this Christmas.

Because of the Savior he loved, there will always be a reason to celebrate Christmas. But a Christmas spirit as tremendous as my dad's will always be missed.