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The following is something my wife Sarah wrote today, and it brilliantly illustrates what is on my mind. I probably could not have written this today, but wanted to share her words.
From Sarah's Blog Today, March 8: Eighteen years ago today, my husband's father died. It started out like any other day. Phil was a junior in high school, the only child of two incredibly loving parents. Phil's dad, Ed, was the senior pastor at a large, thriving and growing church in Tucson, Arizona. His mom was just about as sweet and kind as anyone you've ever met. Mom & Dad were in Seattle for a couple of days, teaching at a church where they had many friends, and had lived before. Phil stayed in Tucson. It was a Sunday afternoon. Phil got a phone call from someone his family knew in Seattle. Ed had been in a pretty bad car accident.
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