Memorial Day and an old faded tattoo

Memorial Day to me is my grandfather. 

Papa served two terms in the Korean war. I remember when I was little finding a box at his house with various mementos from the Army. Money. A knife. Pictures. And I remember the awe that came over me. "Papa is a soldier!"

He never really wanted to talk about his time there. When I was little that didn't make sense to me, but it does now. 

To this day Papa has the word "Army" tattooed on his arm. Its faded now but still legible.

Tragically, my soldier grandfather, who served two terms in the Korean war, now bed ridden in his Highland Indiana home while suffering from Alzheimer's, was told recently that he is ineligible for financial help from the Veteran's administration. 

Apparently his tattoo isn't legible to various entities of our government. 

Memorial Day to me is my grandfather.

Memorial Day to me is also my cousin. My uncles. Various friends.

I have deep thankfulness for these individuals who sacrifice and have sacrificed in a way that really can't be fathomed by those of us who haven't done it. 

I pray that what they've given doesn't fade away like an old tattoo.

This pic is of Papa and Baylee, taken on Memorial Day six years ago.

Two words you can say that will give someone an instant spirit boost

A couple weeks ago I did a message at church that I felt really didn't go over that well. It wasn't my worst ever, but it wasn't as I had hoped. The collateral damage wasn't a huge dark cloud, but there was a mixture of frustration and questioning of self. My sense of perfectionism can be rather brutal at times.

After service a guy from our church asked me if I could send him the notes from a message I'd done a few weeks prior. Out of my mouth came, "Sure, no problem." In my head was, "Obviously not wanting today's stuff." Despite my pity party I emailed the notes later that afternoon. 

In the morning my inbox had a simple message from him saying thanks for the notes. But he also had this post script: 

No Slutty Halloweens

This is a picture of Baylee's Halloween costume: Hello Kitty. 

My adorable little girl.

My funny, caring, outgoing, social, loving, observant, full of life, beautiful little girl. 

As her daddy I take it as a deep personal responsibility to shower her with love, affirmation, empowerment, wisdom, and build up her self-respect so that when she is older she doesn't feel it necessary to dress up like a slut in order to have fun on Halloween.

Her decisions will be her own.

But it's my role to give her a foundation to make those decisions, and impart to her through our relationship the self-respect, confidence, and know how to be able to make the best ones. 

Dear Lord - please help me! 

 What matters is not your outer appearance—the styling of your hair, the jewelry you wear, the cut of your clothes—but your inner disposition. Cultivate inner beauty, the gentle, gracious kind that God delights in. 1 Peter 3:3-4

The king is enthralled by your beauty; honor him, for he is your lord. Psalm 45:11

"Call me buddy"

The most read post from my blog this year so far as been when I wrote about Baylee not wanting to grow up.  This is another one of those "out of the mouth of babes" stories.

Yesterday I went out back to the garage to load the car with some things for work.  Coming back I heard a kid's voice calling me, "Are you Baylee's dad?"

The voice was coming from the second story of our next door neighbor's building.  I hadn't met our new neighbors yet, but this was one of their little boys.

"I am Baylee's dad.  My name is Bobby, what's your name?"

Pastor Troyer

When I was in 6th grade my family started attending Bethel Baptist church in Merrillville, Ind.  We had floated around other places for awhile, but didn't really feel at home anywhere. The fact we moved about a 1/2 mile from Bethel and that many of my classmates attended the church made the decision to be there rather easy.  It quickly and easily became our church "home." 

The pastor at Bethel was Marv Troyer.  

I am honored to be able to say that he was and always will be my pastor.

A week ago today Pastor Troyer past away.  He was 77.  Today in Ohio is a memorial service for him, and it is killing me that I am unable to be there.  I would love to be able to add my voice to the many people I know will be sharing stories and words of appreciation for this great man of God.

Someone will mention his huge smile and laugh.  

Someone will mention his Amish stories.

Someone will mention his preaching.

Someone will mention his heart for people and his leadership.

So many stories, so many words that can be shared.  

I hung out at the church a lot with my youth pastor and did my college internship at Bethel, so I was able to interact with Pastor Troyer a lot outside of Sundays.  And I do have fond memories.