I’m happy to say that all the problems we have been having with the site seem to have been fixed. Thanks Jeremy!

I had a whole other post ready to go up for tomorrow when I remembered it was Father’s Day. I know it looks like I just outed myself, but let me explain. I remembered Father’s Day as it pertains to my husband, I just didn’t remember it for this site. My husband has written so many songs about so many different things that I sometimes need to look at the calendar and then look at my list of songs to see if there’s one for that particular day. There usually is! The other day one our friends said, "It seems like you’ve written a song for just about every occasion in my life. You should work for Hallmark!"

This song is one of the first songs my husband wrote. He sent it off to some people in L.A. who critique songs and they liked it so much, it encouraged him to give this whole songwriting thing a shot. (Sorry, I don’t mean to influence you in any way. Just forget I even said that last sentence!)

This part is for the Songwriter. Thank you for being such a great father to our children. When I watch them, I’m more confident than ever that the things you’ve poured into them are taking root and will produce excellent fruit! They love you because you accept them just the way God created them. You let them know when you are proud of them and you are gentle when you correct their mistakes. Most importantly, they know without a doubt that you love them because you don’t just say it, you live it. That’s worth more than anything. Happy Father’s Day. I love you.

Cotton Dyed Gray

Well heroes wear armor that shines like the sun
Through battle they ride unafraid
And heroes wear medals that shimmer and gleam
In ticker tape Main street parades

But I knew a soldier that fought quietly
In a factory on Fairmont and 8th
He kissed us each morning and saved us each day
My hero wore cotton dyed gray

And his war he fought every day
Was to raise up a family on shop labor pay
And his medals of honor that gleamed
Were the wallet-sized pictures he often displayed

Reserved in his manner but bold in his faith
A man unashamed of his means
With hands that could pick out a chord now and then
But better with broken machines

A house and an acre a wife and three kids
And God knows the unfinished dreams
But he kissed us each morning and saved us each day
My hero wore cotton dyed gray

And his war he fought every day
Was to raise up a family on shop labor pay
And his medals of honor that gleamed
Were the wallet-sized pictures he often displayed

Well gone is the factory and gone is the house
There’s a four-lane where it used to be
And I’ll always miss that old tree house he built
It seemed like a castle to me

But I’ll keep the memory of his quiet smile
And that image will always remain
How he kissed us each morning and saved us each day
My hero wore cotton dyed gray