Memorial Box Monday--Pastor Appreciation

My heart has been full today. We honored our pastor this month, but today was special. I spent much time crying those spirit-filled tears, and Josie-Tatum spent much time looking at me, puzzled.

Not many people can say they've had the same pastor for 22 years. Not many people can see he has been there for the birth of their son and for his wedding. Not many can say, "My pastor baptized my children and both of my parents."

But, if you haven't thanked your pastor yet this October, Pastor Appreciation Month, please take a moment to do so....and please spend a moment here, seeing why our Brother Randall Gunter is so dear to us.

He was there when Caleb was born. He was there when Caleb had surgery when he was just one year old. Caleb wanted to be like him so much, he dressed as Brother Randall at our Fall Festival, even put white shoe polish in his hair so it would look gray. I know he prays for Caleb even more now that his in service.

He has been there for my children throughout their lives. When Whitney went to him and told him he wanted to be baptized, he said, "First, you have to be saved." She said, "I've already done that. I said the prayer with a preacher on TV." He made sure she understood, though.

And, when she was still in elementary school, she stood up for her convictions once, and was ridiculed so much so that I asked her grandmother to pick her up from school. She wanted to talk to Brother Randall, and, of course, he took the time with her.

The day we decided to pursue Josie-Tatum's adoption, he was one of the first we told. Right there in a public place, he stopped, held our hands, and prayed. He affirmed what we were already feeling in our hearts. He was there at the airport when we came home.

And, the night we saw Ellie's face, we knew she still wasn't matched with a family. Brother Randall was the first person Stan wanted to talk to. He would have been at the airport when we came home, but he was on a mission trip.

When Ellie had hip surgery, he drove 5 hours early that morning, spent the day with us, and drove back home that nice. All because of love.

And, one of my most special memories comes from a day of great tragedy. Stan was driving a semi-truck at the time. He was in Florida when a drunk driver turned into his path. Stan hit the man's truck, and he was killed. Brother Randall knew about it before I did, and he was the one who came to give me the horrible message. He spent the evening with me, each time a phone call came, talking with Stan, waiting on him to get home. Brother Randall was there.

So, in our Memorial Box, I'm going to place photos of my children with Brother Randall. The one above, and some others I was going to scan today, but my scanner isn't working. Check back tomorrow, you can see some other special memories.

I want my children to remember that God has been faithful to care for us through his under shepherd, and we are blessed to call Brother Randall our pastor.