My father, a patriot, bled red, white, and blue—a living embodiment of the nation’s spirit. His veins course with the colors of freedom, sacrifice, and resilience. While he struggled with being a healthy father, he demanded respect for Old Glory.
A GODLY FATHER
Being a Godly father is a sacred responsibility that extends beyond merely having children. It encompasses nurturing, guiding, loving, and embodying the heart of God in the home. A Godly father is a spiritual leader, protector, provider, and a source of moral standards for his children. His influence shapes their character, faith, and understanding of God’s love.
Unfortunately, even though my father was the son of a preacher, he struggled significantly with being a Godly husband and father.
I grew up bouncing around from country to country. My father was a trained assassin for the United States - often being called away from home to God only knows where. As children, we knew that his missions were important. However, when he returned, a dark cloud seemed to cloak the home.
My dad was a warrior through and through—a hero who had fought in distant lands but returned home carrying more than medals - metals, I might add, that were kept out of sight. Through the years, they were kept in boxes tucked away. We knew it was a forbidden place to explore.
Each year that passed, I noticed more and more aggressive behavior, not knowing my father was grappling with PTSD—a silent enemy that clung to him like a shroud. I was left with an obsessive curiosity.
I longed for a father-son relationship. On good days, he was the life of the party. However, after a few drinks, a different father emerged - one that was vulgar, violent, and vicious. While many children would hate or detest their fathers for such struggles, I did not. I spent my childhood caring for him until the Lord healed him. I credit my father for my life ambition - ministering to others amid their sufferings.
Because of my compassionate and tender unique relationship with my Dad, the Lord painted a new picture. I carry more honor for my father than words or pictures can express. My father is my hero, a beacon of courage and unwavering strength, commanding my deepest respect. His sacrifices of serving our country and coming back from PTSD are etched in my mind as a legacy of valor and tenacity. In the core of my life, he stands as a central thread, binding generations with honor and selflessness. My love for preserving, or should I say restoring our nation to the meaning of Red, White, and Blue comes directly from my Dad.
I have a letter hanging on my wall from a President, thanking him personally for the years of serve of protecting Old Glory. Those metals finally came out of the closet. After his recovery from PTSD, officers from the Army and Air Force came to their home and represented every citation he received over the years. It is an afternoon I shall never forget. I saw my father cry twice. The first is when he confessed to me the number of people he was ordered to kill. The second is when these armed services represented him with his citations - in full military honor and protocol.
Before my father passed, he received Jesus Christ as his indwelling Savior. He requested I want Stephen at my side when I die. As my father was moments away from crossing over, I was called to his bedside. I put my hand on his chest and saw a vision. It was my father standing as a warrior, determined NOT to give up while Jesus was reaching for his hand. I whispered Dad, Jesus is calling you home. It’s OK, let go, I will remain faithful to reconciling the family as I promised. Several minutes later, he took his last breath.
At his grave site, I threw myself over his casket, clinching it like there was not a tomorrow. Family had to peal me off the casket. From that day forward, I too wanted to bleed Red, White, and Blue.
Jesus, please tell my Dad Blessed Father’s Day from his son, Stephen!
MY DAD: Bled Red, White, & Blue.