The Morning Star Rising on the First Day

In my previous posting (Possess the Vision) I communicated that I was going to present all of the spiritual experiences of my life, and to do so in such a way that communicates how the “vision statement,” of the Ministry was constructed.

This first story is not very mystical but at the same time provides a very strong message. Look at it as a parable, a story told in earthly terms to communicate a heavenly message that may be missed otherwise. The message is this; we have a heavenly Father in heaven that loves us and will care for and protect us along our life journey. With that said, here is my story of the day that my Dad came home from World War II:


I do not know exactly how old I was when my dad came home from World War II but I was likely less than two years old. This would make the time of his return either the summer of 1945 or 1946. The experience that was about to unfold was so memorable that I can still see it in my mind as if it were a full color motion picture. More incredible is that a child of such a tender age could remember anything in such detail. Perhaps some of the parts were added from other experiences as I grew up, or perhaps my mother told me the story in my youth and added the details. I cannot explain how I can remember all of these things from so long ago.

My mother and I waited expectantly at the front door of our home on a nice summer day. The front door was open, and I was standing at the wooden screen. It had a solid twenty-four inch base at the bottom that offered me a degree of stability as I looked out toward the street. Mom was to my left side. She was holding onto the door handle to ensure that I did not jar it open. She had been talking to me for quite some time about my daddy coming home, and this was the expected day. So, we were there looking for him.

Then, suddenly she said in an excited tone of voice, “There’s your daddy.” I looked down the street through the screen. Sure enough, there was a straight and tall man walking toward us on the sidewalk. He was dressed in a Marine Corps dress blue uniform. It was a dark royal blue and was trimmed with a white belt. He had two stripes on his sleeves and combat ribbons on his chest. He had a white Marine hat on his head. He looked very strong. I remember that he had a deep tan. Later in life, he told me it was a South Pacific tan. He had a dazzling white smile that contrasted so well with his dark complexion. In addition, his hat was tilted slightly to the right side in such a way that conveyed, “I’m special.” His walk had a spring in it as he moved confidently in my direction.

As I watched him approach, my mother kept repeating, “There’s your daddy, there’s your daddy.” When he arrived at our walkway, he turned and sprang up the steps onto the porch. Mom opened the door. They wrapped their arms around one another in a huge embrace, kissed, and swayed back and forth.

I remember standing between them and watching from below. I leaned my body back as I looked straight up at my parents. They towered over me. I remember standing there looking at them for what seemed to be a very long time. I started thinking, what about me? I was contemplating tugging on my dad’s trousers to get his attention. Suddenly, he looked down at me, bent over, and picked me up. I then received the recognition for which I was waiting. I was a part of the hugging party. My dad was home!

So that is the story. Those who earnestly look for the Father will find Him. For those who wait for Him will find that He comes to them. For those who wait for the promise of His existence will find the one true love that have yearned to know.