I was pleased to learn this morning in church that Father's Day wasn't a holiday initiated by Hallmark.

Seems it originated way back in the early 1900's with a young girl that was raised by her father, after her mother died at an early age. She thought up the celebration while attending a Mother's Day service and celebrated it about a month later, in June.

LBJ signed the order to make Father's Day a holiday on the third Sunday in June back in 1966, and I'm glad he did.

After all, I should remember and appreciate my own father and grandfathers and the father of my children every day, but at least I have one 24 hour period each year, specifically set out for that purpose. That's pretty neat.

Today, in church, our intern pastor read the following passage. It's a lesson Robert Fulghum got from his grandfather. I thought it was pretty neat!

My grandfather Sam called me up last Tuesday to ask me if I'd take him to a football game. Grandfather likes small town high school football-- and even better the eight-man ball played by cross roads team. Grandfather is a fan of amateurs and small scale.

Some people are concerned about how it is that good things happen to bad people and there are those concerned about how bad things happen to good people. But my grandfather is interested in those times when miracles happen to ordinary people.

Here again he likes small scale. When a nothing team from a nothing town full of nothing kids rises up with nothing to lose against some up market suburban outfit with new uniforms, and start chucking hail Mary bombs from their own goal line and their scrawny freshman tight end catches three in a row to win the game, well, it does your heart good.

"Murphy's Law doesn't always hold," says grandfather. Every once in a while, the fundamental laws of the universe seem to be momentarily suspended and not only does everything go right, nothing seems to be able to keep it from going right.

Ever drop a glass in the sink when you are washing dishes and have it bounce nine times and not even chip? A near miss at an intersection, the lump that turned out to be benign, the heart attack that was only gas...

My grandfather says he blesses God each day when he takes himself off to bed, having eaten and not been eaten once again. Now I lay me down to sleep, in the peace of amateurs for whom so many blessings flow, I thank you God for what went right. Amen.