It was October 1985. It was sudden, but not entirely unexpected. Paul died leaving behind a grieving young wife and two little boys, ages 14 months and 6 years. He was my friend and I grieved too. 28 years old was too young to die. In the midst of the torrent of emotions that followed this untimely death, I worried most for the little boys. Who would be there for them? Who would be there for their mom? Who would step up to help breach the gap that had been torn within the fabric of their young lives? I prayed for the grieving young family.
“Lord, send a man, a big brother, to soften the blow and give these little guys what they need in this difficult time.”
And, wouldn’t you know it? God sent me.
It started out as simple play dates with the little guys. Soon, the role of “big brother” evolved into “Mom’s boyfriend.” And, as things would go, she became pregnant. I loved her and we got married.
But the guilt of sin, even confessed (and forgiven) sin, can be burdensome, especially for newlyweds. And then there was the weight of all the new responsibilities. I was just 22 years old; a new father of two with one on the way, a recent university graduate, but no job prospects.
We moved to Tulsa for a new start. I did find a job, minimum wage. Paycheck to paycheck was tough but tougher still was the lingering guilt.
And then the day arrived. Soft music played in the background while Diana labored at the City of Faith Hospital. In the early morning hours of January 14, 1986, Lee Gregory was born. When I held Lee in my arms for the first time, I realized at that moment, the sin had indeed been long forgiven and my newborn son was a blessing of God, a very tangible evidence of God’s grace and faithfulness to me. And that blessing continues to this very day, 32 years later.
Happy birthday, Lee. I’m honored to be your dad and humbled by the gift you are to me.
Dash Stories 