Every year, our church hosts a God and Country celebration just before the July 4th weekend. We invite and honor our public servants. This year, eighteen of them were kind enough to show up. There was a short piece that was read during this year’s program that I thought I’d share as part of a July 4th medley. This post celebrates the joy of family.
The center of all civilizations has always been the family. More than just the tribe that produced you, family protected and nurtured you until you could care for and believe in yourself. The prayers of your family has sustained you, the company of those most dear where no explanations are necessary or expected.
Family is that place where we get our noses and those funny facial expressions that make us unique. Just like they made Dad, and Grandad, and his daddy, too.
Family is that fortress where we’re always secure. The hospital where we go to heal.
It’s the teacher who always shows us how. The psychiatrist who talks us through our fears. The lawyer who always bails us out. The preacher who keeps us on the right path.
Family. It’s forever the standard by which we will measure all home cooking. It’s where we learned to understand tone of voice, raised eyebrows, and the purpose for middle names. It’s where the water from the well was always the coldest, the work in the field always the hottest, and the laughter in the yard always the sweetest. Where love held everything together.
Family. It’s where both good and bad have had their day. Where both joy and sorrow made themselves welcome.
But no matter how old we get or how far away we travel, our most precious memories always bring us right back here. To Family.
It all started with those two in the picture. Some days I wanted to show them to the whole world. Other days… well, if you’re a parent, you understand. But every day I have loved them.
The idea isn’t my own, but it’s a good one. I’m not sure I can point to a specific verse to give it scriptural sanction, but in the dust and sweat of every day living, it’s worth mulling over.
I’ve been thinking about love. Not so surprising, I guess, considering that yesterday was Valentine’s Day.
If our nation’s collective behavior could be diagnosed this week, I am sure we would be pronounced mentally ill.
I’m sorry, but when I am pondering the wonder of God’s love for me, 
A few months ago, doctors told a lady in our church that she had cancer. Her family and friends, obviously, were devastated. A follow-up visit was scheduled to gain more specific information about her condition. Folks agreed to gather at the church and pray for her the night before she was to report for that appointment.
My oldest daughter, a school teacher, brought this research to my attention a few years ago. The subject was stirred again recently in a discussion with a pastor’s wife.