Better Get a Refund on that Crystal Ball

My father was livid; my sister wept distraught tears.

The preschool teacher at PALS, the little preschool operated by a Church of Christ church on the east side of Jonesboro, Arkansas, felt the need to inform Traci that her only son—my father's only grandchild—was "slow." I'm sure that the preschool teacher was trying to break the news to Traci gently, to prepare her for a couple of decades of struggling with a child who would never perform well in school, never be able to pursue a distinguished career, never know the satisfaction of achievement.

Dad, as I recall, threatened to take down that preschool with his own hands, brick-by-Campbellite-brick.

As Paul Harvey would say, here's the rest of the story.

Tomorrow morning, my nephew Alex Bryant Smith will graduate from the United States Military Academy at West Point, NY. From there he'll be heading to Fort Sill in Lawton, OK, for orientation in Field Artillery. Then he'll be posted in Germany, although he'll spend most of his time either in Iraq or Afghanistan.

Alex went to West Point after September 11—after we went to war. He knew what he was doing. He's had acquaintances who died and one good friend who lost a leg in Iraq. But he believes in our country and in our mission. He's determined to serve. I'm just as proud of him as I can be.

In other family news, today is my sixteenth wedding anniversary. Man, did I marry above myself! This morning in my prayer time I just thanked God that He sent Tracy my way and that He has prevented me from messing it up for sixteen whole years. What a blessing Tracy is! So, I'm out-of-town with her today and won't be responding to comments. May God bless you all with an enduring love like this!