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Girl Without Father Counts Her Blessings

My youth group was hundreds of miles from home on a mission trip in New Orleans. We were piled in the van on the way back to the motel when someone yelled out, "I get the pay phone first!"

"Why?" another kid asked. "Who do you need to call?"

"It's Father's Day, dork!" came the reply.

Father's Day. I hadn't thought about that in years. As everyone scrambled for coins and planned out a calling schedule, I stared blankly out the window of the van.

My dad had died from a heart attack when I was 4, and I remembered so little about him. As for Father's Day, it was a holiday I had pretty much pushed out of my mind—until today.

Back at the motel, I wandered around by myself while everyone else scurried for the phones. I felt so sad, and so alone. Sure, I had my mom and my three brothers. But who was I supposed to call today? As the day went on, my sorrow turned ...

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