Tuesday, July 5
Yesterday, as much of our country was celebrating our nation’s birthday, some of us spent at least a few minutes in quiet reflection. I am thankful to be able to celebrate with fun and festivities, but something happened on July 4, 1969 that shrouds our family’s July 4ths. On an outing at a church camp, my five-year-old brother was killed in a freak accident involving a hay wagon. Even though it has been over 50 years since the incident, the date will forever be stuck in our psyches. I often wonder had the event happened on some unremarkable date, such as October 22, if it would be so memorable. Maybe so, but for years the 4th of July has brought a dissonance to our family. Through the years, our family has found a way to cope with this tragedy, but the day is a reminder to me that even when times are filled with fun and games, someone is suffering. No matter how many are celebrating, there are those who have suffered loss. I am not saying we should temper our joy just because