Boy, oh boy! My 1st Official Giveaway

[Part of me just had to write up this post today so I didn't have to look at Lotso anymore!]

If you are a mom with a son, or know a mom with a son, I highly recommend this book. I love it, and I want to give a copy to one of you! This is my first official giveaway, so be excited people!

But first I have to tell you about it. If you haven't guessed, the "other woman" to whom the title refers is a boy's future wife. The book's introduction begins with this question: "What kind of husband will your son grow up to be?" The question gives me pause, personally. But this book has helped me have a vision for what kind of husband I think God would have my son become, and how I can be used in that process.

After reading it, I realized I used to believe that nearly all of a boy's training to be a man and a husband was to be done by his father. While the role of a strong, Godly dad in his life is certainly irreplaceable, God has been showing me that I too am in a powerful position in my son's life as a woman. I can teach him about the needs of a woman in a unique way. I'm convinced that just as in many other areas of his life, my input in his training to be a man is not only valuable but critical.

Here are some specific things I love about it:

It has a strong premise - Shepherd asks, "What if a husband had a mother who invested her life not only in cooking, cleaning, and caring for her son, but also in carefully and deliberately bestowing upon him what every man desires to know - how to understand and care for the fragile heart of his bride?...Imagine how differently many tragic love stories would end if every new bride took the hand of a well-trained hero - a strong warrior, equipped for victory as a loving leader." Shepherd continues by making a strong case for moms. A mother is the first and most influential woman in a young boy's life. She therefore must be intentional in shaping her son's understanding of a woman's heart and his future role in a family.

It is so incredibly practical - This is not simply a fluffy Christian book full of abstract suggestions with scripture to match. The commentary in each chapter is actually very short; the author spends the bulk of the book listing practical ways for mothers to guide their sons. Each chapter has a section called "A Mother In Action," where she lists chapter-related ideas for boys ages 3-8, then 9-13, and finally 14-19. I've already used her suggestions many times and my son is only five. Shepherd is basically arming a mother with tools for building a strong foundation with her son in a variety of ways, encouraging a mom to use her position of influence to train him for leading his future family. I will be referencing this book for years, I'm certain.

It covers fourteen critical skills we'd all agree boys need to learn (and we'd all agree it's clear that most of the grown-up ones haven't) - Teaching him to express love, resolve conflict, be a Godly leader, choose purity, and be affirming to his wife are just some. I would love to list them all because they are all so good.

Every chapter contains a prayer - Not only do the prayers point moms to the Lord and His wisdom, but the whole directive of the book hinges on a mother's reliance on the Lord to empower her and guide her in the best ways to raise her son. Moms are encouraged to boldly teach their sons in a way only a woman can, allowing God to work through them with love and wisdom.

SO, if you'd like a chance to win a copy of Preparing Him for the Other Woman, all you have to do is become a follower. Click "Follow" on the right margin and in a couple simple steps, you'll be in! If you're already a follower, comment that you want to be entered. If you'd like to be entered more than once, you can post this giveaway on Facebook, Twitter, (click below on the icons) or blog about it. Just post the link back here in the comments. You have until the end of Saturday to enter. Thanks, and I hope I get to send it to someone!

Uh, no.

I really love going to the movies. But it's pretty obvious that good movies are hard to come by, particularly for kids. I hate to say any one production house is better than another, but I confess I have been under the spell of Pixar since its early days, believing it offers my family a "safer" variety of entertainment. Haven't you been? I quickly looked past Pixar's recent flops as exceptions, and kept holding out for another Cars or Toy Story. (Wait. There was another Toy Story but who really got excited about that one?)

Tonight I held out my hope one last time as we took the kids to see Toy Story 3. We went with another family, went to dinner first, and had a great time. But I have to make a couple comments on this piece of cinema. My five year old was on my lap for half the film because he was scared. At one point he moaned, "I hate this movie," as he buried his face into me. I felt like a bad parent at that point for making him suffer through it, not wanting to leave the rest of the group. But I chose to continue whispering positive thoughts in his ear (ie. "Let's see how the good guys are gonna escape! Let me know if you see the way they're gonna beat those bad guys!"), lamely expecting his rational mind to trump his fear, as if he would suddenly start enjoying it.

But really, I was feeling mad. I shouldn't have to talk down my 5 year old in a G-rated film. My son is not normally afraid during the usual movie conflict and action. But something about the villain in Toy Story 3 is more sinister than usual. The fluffy pink bear who smells like strawberries and is named Lotso, is a bit of a chameleon. Just like one would see in a grown-up film, Lotso starts off by being everyone's BFF, but then his true colors are revealed. Apparently, Lotso has a a deep-seated anger from being abandoned, which results in his having a tyrannical rule over all the other toys in his community.

Lotso has issues and says weirdly depressing things like, "No owner means no heartbreak!" He is intimidating, angry, and mean. This is not light-hearted fare, my friends. Lotso is a far cry from Toy Story's first villian, Sid, the boy next door who wants to tie toys to fire crackers. Sid is the equivalent of Butch Cavendish, the cattle rustler, in the Lone Ranger, while Lotso is Vito Corleone. And really, disturbing just doesn't fit into my Pixar paradigm. Well, clearly, it's my paradigm that needs to change, since it seems to me that innocence has left the building.

So after seeing the movie tonight, I remembered that last week, when we went to Toys 'R' Us (and I would have made that "R" backwards like in the logo, if my keyboard would have let me), we saw the largest display ever of Toy Story 3 merchandise. Of course, there were many, many Lotsos for sale. Now, I'm wondering if Lotso comes with "emotional baggage" as his accessory.

Do you see on the box where it says, "I talk! Over 45 adorable sayings,"? I'm guessing some of them are the following:

"I won't bond to you because I'm broken on the inside."
"The rage is because I'm afraid."
"My smile is just a mask for my pain."

OK, I'll get over it. But to you Pixar, and you Toys "R" Us shelf full of boxed, pink, scary bears, I say, Uh, no.

Teachable Moment: Ashamed

Yesterday we were doing some housework. I went upstairs to find my eight year old daughter hanging her head. I asked her what was wrong. Silence with a guilty expression was returned. I recognized that guilty expression and knew to tread lightly, holding my emotion back for fear of damaging the trust I needed to preserve at that moment. I asked again. What was going on? She mumbled, "I'm afraid you'll get mad." I replied, "I promise I won't get mad. I may be disappointed, but I won't get mad." She said, "I'm still scared. What if I write it down?" After I agreed, she disappeared and returned a few minutes later with this:



Apparently, for the last week or so, instead of hanging up all her clothes, she'd been shoving them into the back of the closet, under the rest of the hanging clothes. It was a lot of clothes. This child changes multiple times a day, and half the clothes were ones she'd not actually worn, just tried on and decided against. In addition, we've been down this road before. She's done the shoving thing on a small scale every now and then. So she knew the rule: No shoving your clothes to the back of the closet. But she had shoved, again and again, hiding each mistake until she had a mountain up to her waist when it all came out.

And a mountain of shame in her heart. After she handed the note to me, she jumped into bed and pulled the covers over her head while I read it. Her eyes were red when I uncovered her. At this point, the imaginary sirens were going off in my head indicating that this was a teachable moment I must not pass up. So I did all the loving things I could think of. I gave her a big hug, I offered forgiveness, I said I'd help her with her mess. But she burst into tears. I said, "Honey, are you crying because you're bummed out at having to hang up all your clothes, or because you're feeling ashamed?" She whimpered, "Ashamed." into my side.

I've never seen my child harbor shame quite like yesterday. I couldn't patch it up with a hug and a helping hand. She had a deeper need. I needed to address her shame and show her how to deal with it. And frankly, I was not prepared for that. (Incidentally, I'm never prepared for teachable moments. Don't think that I rehearse these kinds of conversations in my head ahead of time. But God is always prepared, and always gently prods me forward, giving me surprisingly appropriate things to say. Honestly, I'm surprised. Not by Him, but by my part in it all.)

I couldn't approach my daughter's issue of shame without thinking of my own. What about my pile of sin? What do I do when God reveals something I've been hiding, that's been shoved to the back of the closet? When He exposes something I'd rather not face, it's not fun. I know how she feels. Don't we all experience the burden of guilt from time to time?

But then there's Jesus. Galatians 5:1 says "It is for freedom that Christ set us free." While feeling sorry for our mistakes is one thing, as followers of Jesus, we are not meant to wallow in shame. In eight year old language, I explained this to my daughter. Jesus took away our sin on the cross so that we would be free from feeling ashamed. I told her that the Bible says when you accept Jesus' gift of forgiveness, it's as if you put on His clean, white robe. So when God looks at you, that's all He sees. Your mistakes are totally covered because Jesus is perfect. But here's the thing: even though God always forgives you, He wants you to learn how to make better choices. And the reason you want to make better choices is not because I say you should, or to make me happy. The reason you want to stop shoving your clothes is because you're thankful Jesus gave you His robe.

Something in my little speech clicked, and it seemed my daughter crossed over from shame to freedom. And on about the day we went, simple as that. In fact, she diligently spent over an hour cleaning up her pile without complaint.

I think a lot of us struggle with shoving. We have habits or vices that we keep choosing, and then keep shoving. It can even be something subtle that you're simply leaving room for in your life, like complaining or envy. (OK, maybe you aren't, but those are just two I sometimes make room for.) Don't be afraid to invite God into that closet, even if you have to write it in a note. On Hello Kitty paper. My daughter had a perfect example for us in her two part confession: "I'm sorry," and "I need help!" God is so happy to help you pull the junk out and clean up the mess. Then you and I can show off our matching white robes.

Shut-up already

I never got in trouble for talking in grade school. Well, maybe now and again. In Kindergarten, I remember being asked to leave carpet time and go put my head down on my desk after being caught chatting with a friend. I knew that for some kids, having to put your head down on your desk was a daily requirement. I, on the other hand, was completely mortified. It did not happen twice.

Now, strangely, talking gets me in trouble all the time. I get caught in verbal situations that are not pretty. Here are some common scenarios in my life, and perhaps in yours:

Scenario #1: The Knee-Jerk Reaction

Sometimes I'm caught off guard by stuff. Sharpie marker on my new tablecloth, THE stuffed animal left at a restaurant, a throwing up dog after having eaten two bags of chocolate chips out of the pantry...you know. You have your own list like that. And when I'm not prepared for a challenge, I can overreact. This is when my kids get the, "WHAT were you thinking!?" and "Seriously?" and all the other ungracious things I say from time to time. Yes, I pray for God to erase all my unkind commentary from their little damaged hearts. Earnestly, I do. But the knee-jerk reaction still happens sometimes. Why? Because I'm trying to change something with my words.

Scenario #2: Thinking Out Loud

My poor husband. I think out loud a lot, never realizing he's doing his best to figure out a strategic response. Should he solve the problem, nod quietly, offer advice, ask questions? Do I even care about his response, or am I just sorting out my heart aloud? I don't even know the answer to these questions. But I do know I can be self-absorbed. I can forget about my loving, listening audience. Why? Because I'm trying to change something with my words.

Scenario #3: Good Old-Fashioned Shouting

It's effective, let's be honest. Shouting gives me a feeling of power sometimes. Shouting at him is the only thing that stops the dog from barking. Shouting shocks the loudly bickering kids into silence. Shouting is a theatrical complement to a good verbal stab. But shouting is cheap and lazy. It's relying on volume instead of content to influence a situation. Nonetheless, I still on occasion resort to it. Why? Because I'm trying to change something with my words.

Scenario #4: Miss Needy Needleton

My poor husband, chapter two. I have learned that he is not God. My husband, no matter how great he can be, is not responsible for (nor is he capable of) making me feel whole. Only God can fill up my empty, befriend my lonely, and heal my deepest hurt. But my husband is the one I see everyday, and I am forgetful. So that empty sneaks up on me and I sneak it up on him, asking him ever so subtly to do the job God is meant to do. It never goes well. Sometimes I'm needy and I look to the wrong person to remind me who I am. Why? Because I'm trying to change something with my words.


Last week was a little bit messy. I had more on my plate than usual, and let's just say I was less emotionally together than usual for a few reasons. It wasn't horrible, but it was a little messy. I kept having to sweep up those messes, and apologize to my people.

In the midst, I began re-reading a book I'd read years ago called The Power of a Praying Wife by Stormie Omartian. Early on in the book, Stormie has a subsection entitled, "Shut Up and Pray." It encapsulates her position, one on which she has written numerous books, that prayer should precede any potentially sensitive conversation you have with someone, not only with your spouse, but in any relationship. This is expected Christian advice, in my experience. And advice which I myself take, when a big issue is on the table, or when I'm really nervous about speaking to someone about something. Rare cases. So the section wasn't really hitting home until this passage:

When we live by the power of God rather than our flesh, we don't have to strive for power with our words. "For the kingdom of God is not in word but in power" (I Corinthians 4:20). It's not the words we speak that make a difference, it is the power of God accompanying them. You'll be amazed at how much power your words have when you pray before you speak them. You'll be even more amazed at what can happen when you shut up and let God work.

Of course! Part of the reason I kept having to sweep up my own messes was because I was striving for power with my words and then feeling powerless, because it was all my own strength and not rooted in God's. Really, it is exhausting work. Do you feel this? And this kind of striving for power is not limited to instances of verbal manipulation, being controlling, those kinds of obvious misuses of words. The ways I can strive for power with my words can be so simple and subtle, especially with my kids. My love and desires for them run so deeply that my words come out tangled with striving.

Thankfully, God's offer is freedom from such burdensome verbal work. He is in charge of all my people, and is reminding me to allow Him the room to work and speak in their lives. I'm not in the habit of this yet, but certainly I have a new plan to pray first, speak second. Even when I'm caught off guard by a disaster. Even when I just need to ponder something out loud. Even when I'm tempted to shout (except for at the dog). And especially when I'm running on empty. Why? Because God is trying to change something with His words.

Justice, reality-TV style

Last night, my husband was on a deadline and worked late. In an attempt to keep myself awake until he came home, I watched some trashy TV. By trashy, I mean the after prime-time reality shows, which can be kind of depressing, disgusting and sadly addicting, so I never watch them. But last night, live TV was my only choice; this weekend we switched cable providers, meaning I was stuck with an empty DVR, not counting the six episodes of Mickey Mouse Clubhouse that were already recorded. And I'd already seen all those. (Yes, I could have read, but sometimes I'm so tired I can't process any more words, no matter how much I'd like to.)

I got sucked into a program called True Beauty, which seemed to have somewhat of a moral intent. The contestants, supposedly some of the most beautiful people in America, believe they are competing for a high-profile spokesperson role, in this case being cast as "The Face of Vegas." While I think the Face of Vegas probably looks much like Satan himself, these individuals were pursuing this prize vehemently. Most oozed with egotism and self-flattery, hoping to be chosen as the most attractive and charming. What these outwardly beautiful people were not told is that each challenge held a behind-the-scenes challenge in morality, in order to reveal something of each person's inner beauty. Kind of awesome.

As the episode came to a close, the person who failed the challenges and was about to be eliminated was escorted into a room alone with the three judges, still ignorant as to why she was being cut. By the way, this woman named Liz was beside herself in grief. She had been recognized as the stand-out most beautiful person of the group. She thought she was quite a big deal and was deeply shaken to be knocked off her throne. What was awaiting was even more horrifying.

The host of the show came out and explained to Liz what the show was really seeking to identify: a person with an outer beauty matched by an inner one. In protest, Liz stated that she was the cream of the crop, physically and morally. The host then simply motioned her hand to the massive screen behind her and said, "Let's take a look." Clip after clip was then shown of Liz compromising, cussing, and flat-out cheating her way to what she thought was the top. Watching, she trembled. Eventually unable to bear her shame any longer, Liz walked out of the room.

I'm gonna be honest. By this time, I wanted her to get kicked off. You know that sense of justice you can feel by a proper reality-show elimination? I felt it. Liz was arrogant, incredibly unkind, and took every opportunity to manipulate her way towards winning. She failed all the moral challenge set-ups, easily deciding to shoplift, lie, treat others with contempt, and cheat. I would never in a million years stoop to the levels she stooped for a goal.

And yet...(exhale)...a chill went through me as I watched her watch her sins being paraded before her eyes. All the things she thought were done in secret. Every bad choice, every rude word, every missed opportunity to care for someone else was recorded and then played back to her. And on live TV. Oh my. It suddenly wasn't funny. My perspective changed then. Instead of feeling justice, I felt sick, mainly because I know this verse (Jesus speaking):

But I tell you that every careless word that people speak, they shall give an accounting for it in the day of judgment.
Matthew 12:36

I almost want to cry, because I can imagine myself on that day just like that sad woman, stammering to make a case for myself and the good things I've done, all the ways I've tried to earn a good position with God. And then Jesus motions to a giant screen and says, "Let's take a look." But my scenario is much worse, since God has not only witnessed my bad choices and unkind words; He's also known my every thought. If the image of standing before Him on that day doesn't send a chill down your spine, then I don't know what would.

I will be Liz someday - you will be Liz someday - giving an account for our mistakes. I don't think I'll have an "account," actually. The only reason Liz protested at first was because she believed her sins were committed in secret. Before an all-knowing God, what could I possibly say in my defense?

Only one thing. I get to say it. "But Lord, I belong to You."

I know this too:

So now there is no condemnation for those who belong to Christ Jesus. And because you belong to him, the power of the life-giving Spirit has freed you from the power of sin that leads to death.
Romans 8:1-2

This belonging is nothing I deserve or have earned, mind you. Ephesians 2:8-9 says:

God saved you by his grace when you believed. And you can’t take credit for this; it is a gift from God. Salvation is not a reward for the good things we have done, so none of us can boast about it.

As the Bible says, my tapes get erased. The key difference between Liz and I is that my sin gets forgiven. Jesus took the burden of my guilt onto Himself on the cross. So I am not sent away like Liz, confused and crying and humiliated. In fact, I am invited in. Forever.

I think Jesus' favorite thing to do is take away our shame. The hard part is letting Him.


Those who look to him are radiant; their faces are never covered with shame.
Psalm 34:5

Soundtrack for Summer!

In case you needed them, yesterday produced two more reasons why I’m kind of a big deal:

I now face paint.

I have created the best summer mix CD on the planet.

Both of these magical things happened yesterday. First of all, I got cornered into the face painting job at my daughter’s end of the year Luau at school. Over the course of two hours, I added painting a horse, three kinds of swirly princess faces, giraffe, Frankenstein and skull and crossbones to my repertoire of skills. The giraffe just basically blew up the place. I did two of those.

But about the mix. I say I have made the best mix on the planet, but let’s be honest: CD mixes don’t compare to mix tapes. Mix tapes are in a class of their own, since so much more effort, and love really, have to go into them. I was seriously gifted in mix tape making, before they became totally obsolete. It’s so sad.

Back to the good news. I think you’re going to want a copy. I’m not sure it’s completely legal to burn you one, but I’m also not sure more than 5 people are reading this and most of them share my last name (or my maiden name). So if you want a copy, please become a follower of my blog! If you don’t know how, click on “Follow” in the right column. If you are already a follower, please leave a comment below stating what you’re most looking forward to about summer (possibly listening to my mix??).

Just to sell you further on the mix, here is the playlist (keep in mind I have an eight year old girl):

What Time Is it? (Summertime!) – High School Muscial 2
Dynamite – Taio Cruz
In the Summertime – Mungo Jerry
Surfin’ Safari – Beach Boys
Three Little Birds – Bob Marley
Stand By Me – Ben E. King
Summertime – The Sundays
Party in the U.S.A. – Miley Cyrus
God Bless the U.S.A. (Proud to be an American) – The Hit Crew
Soak Up the Sun – Sheryl Crow
Sunny Days – Lighthouse
Summer in the City – The Lovin’ Spoonful
Under the Boardwalk – The Drifters
Somewhere Over the Rainbow – Israel Kamakawiwo’ole
America the Beautiful – Keb Mo

Did you see that? Did you see how I went from Ben E. King to Miley Cyrus in about 5 minutes? This mix spans about 5 decades of classic songs perfect for summer!! I’m so excited.

Here’s who didn’t make the list. I was so tempted, but I just had to say No.

Sorry, Will. But I did see Karate Kid with your son it in, so there’s that. It rocked, by the way.



Also, this. This was hard for me to say No to.



Come on. That is a good song.

Also really great and classic is California Dreamin' by the Mamas and Papas, but man is that song depressing. That's what DQ'd it.

So the above 15 songs can be YOUR soundtrack for summer. I promise it will make you and the people in your car really happy. I'd love to make you one! And just don't tell me if you have a tape deck in your car too, because then I'd be a little jealous.

Big Boogus

When I was little, my dad used to call me Little Boogus. He was Big Boogus, naturally. These special names we had for each other were only one of the many ways he made me feel treasured. And since it's Father's Day, I wanted to tell you about him.

But I hesitate to. I know the quality of my relationship with my dad puts me in a small minority of women. I've been in enough women's groups to see that I have something rare, and I've seen women consequently struggle to relate. Because I've come to realize that most women have had some degree of pain inflicted on them by their fathers, I feel an awful thankfulness that I have not. A girl's relationship with her father is a powerful one, and I am humbled that my dad wielded such power to build and heal and teach, rather than to break.

Maybe your father did things that weren't right. Maybe he misused his power, maybe he wasn't a man. And while my dad wasn't perfect by any means, he did a lot of things that were right, things that worked. Things that ultimately pointed me beyond himself, nudging me safely and confidently toward adulthood and toward God.

And let's not forget something very, very critical in speaking of my dad's success as a parent. My mom was always his biggest fan. She was the one who modeled faith before he had any at all. She was the one who encouraged, prayed for, and inspired him to be the man he was created to be. Their unity was divine, really, and her undying, unconditional support for him is a precious model for me as well.

Today, many of my dad's ways have become interwoven and inseparable from my ways, particularly in mine and my husband's parenting. I hope you too can glean something from them. When you read them, remember that a girl's impression of her father quickly translates into her impression of God. This is one reason why the relationship is so powerful. And this is really what I'm getting at here. The end of the story is not that my dad was the hero. He loved me in a way that simply reflected God's character. I learned that God is my hero and the best Father I could ever have. That's what good parenting does; it points a child beyond oneself. So here are a few landmarks of guidance from my childhood, this Father's Day, in honor of Big Boogus.


When I was little...

I was "Little Boogus;" I had a special name, a name only he could call me.

He taught me to nurture a living thing, whether a hamster or carrot seedlings in the garden. He showed me a passion and a respect for all life.

He showed up. He coached my team. He watched, listened, and proved over and over that I was very, very important.

I learned that he didn't just love me, but he liked me. He wanted to be with us. We went on vacations, celebrated special events, and laughed together. To my dad, I was always smart and funny and pretty.

He always found something to buy from every Girl Scout, every neighbor kid selling candy bars, and every down-and-out kid selling magazines door-to-door. He supported ambition and showed compassion for the less fortunate.

He disciplined me when I was disrespectful or defiant, always very calmly.

He gave me hugs, kisses, and said "I love you" often.


When I was a teenager...

He taught me to strive for my personal best simply for the sake of excellence. He imbued confidence in me by offering encouragement at every opportunity without demanding performance. I never felt that his level of love for me was attached to my level of success at something.

He complimented me constantly, and it never got old. I knew also that it wasn't forced or fake. He was genuinely fascinated and delighted by me and the person I was becoming.

He said sorry when he hurt my feelings, and would take responsibility for being too critical. He was never afraid to admit his shortcomings.

He said "No." He was strong enough to choose being unpopular with me over allowing me to put myself in an unsafe situation. (We're talking the drive-in. In the "valley." EVeryone else went.)

He understood that during these years, social acceptance was important. He let me buy the expensive jeans once in a while, he got me a car when I could drive (it was used, but it was not lame), and he taught me cool things. I never felt uncomfortable around boys because I could hold my own, whether in conversation or in shooting pool.

He took me on dad & daughter "dates." Sometimes they were events at the church, but other times, he'd take me to a special restaurant or a movie, careful to demonstrate how I deserved to be treated by a man.

When I was old enough, he took it one step further, explaining the value of purity to me, and that some of the most special things about me should be especially protected for the person I was to marry. I was that valuable.

And then, he did something semi-terrifying: he began trusting me to make decisions on my own. At some point in late high school, he said he was going to stop steering my choices and that I had all the tools I needed to make wise ones on my own. What courage that must have taken. I was thus pushed out of the nest.


Now that I'm an adult...

He is still my biggest fan. And he is still modeling wise living to me, not so much now as a parent, but as a human being. He pursues knowing God with humility and hunger. He sees others' needs and generously tries to meet them. He spends his days with joy in his heart, constantly setting negativity aside. And perhaps one of the most inspiring things to me personally is how he loves to pass on what he's learned in life. He is available to be used by God to share his story. I'm sure if I didn't have a dad like that, I wouldn't be writing for this blog. I wouldn't be passionate about sharing my stories, and I certainly wouldn't realize how important I am in God's story.

Thanks, dad, for being my hero for so many years, and then helping me understand who the real Hero is. I pray I can do the same in my kids' lives.