Today John Renfrow Wilson, my dad, is 68 years old. It was a very different day for him, and all i can say is that he carried with him a generosity of spirit even in a depth of grief. This is what he has been like in this time. And Bryan, Hannah, Stephen and I did all we could to take him out for a good meal and be good company. I am so tired, so I feel highly unpoetic or creative, but I wish that wasn't so so I could carry on and on about my dad. But you know what I think of him.
So simply let me say this, this year of life, likely his most devastating and full of loss year, it was my sincere privilege to be his daughter. I learned a great deal from him standing beside him on many many difficult and heartbreaking days. He is as quirky as ever, as we all seem to be, but the level of tireless commitment and love he poured out over my mother was significant time of my life to stand witness to honor and care. In addition, the way he has continued to pursue his children even in his own heartbreak has been stunning.
So, Happy Birthday dad. I admire you and thank God for the husband you were to my mother, to the dad you were to us kids, and the grandfather you are to my children. I cannot even imagine what will unfold in this next year of life for you as a newly widowed 68 year old man curious to God's design for this next chapter, but my hope for you is big.