In the past month we have been rejoicing over the reopening of Notre Dame Cathedral in Paris.

Yesterday I watched Jimmy Carter's funeral procession arrive in Washington, D.C. and his casket carried into the Capitol. In the atrium of the Capitol he was surrounded by his family and some of the most powerful people in our government. Speeches were made, beautiful music was sung, kind words were shared.

This week we lost a giant in the world of popular music, Quincy Jones. I first became acquainted with the name Quincy Jones when I started following the works of Frank Sinatra.

Being a father is a vocation. It is a calling and it comes, in a certain way, with many surprises. First of all, there is nothing - and I mean nothing - like a nurse handing you a beautiful baby. Wow!, this little thing, so small, vulnerable, dependent, and helpless!

I am a cradle-to-grave Lutheran Christian. While I am not in the grave yet, I do sometimes wonder how I would fare if I was taken prisoner by Hezbollah, the Islamic State, or Putin’s Russia. Would I have the grit and determination and courage to withstand existence in a jail cell in a Russian prison?