What is love?

Sometimes, I hear about companies that I've loved and supported doing things or supporting causes that break my heart. This is one of them.

As often as I've lamented not being able to get my favorite breakfast on Sunday morning, I've always respected Chick-fil-a's commitment to making Sunday a day of rest and worship for their employees. (I do find it strange that they sponsor sporting events on Sundays which most likely require their employees to work them, but that's another story.) Well, no more.

When asked by a group if Chick-fil-a's charitable arm WinShape would accept GLBT guests at their retreat center, this was the response:

"WinShape Retreat defines marriage from the Biblical standard as being between one man and one woman. Groups/Individuals are welcome who offer wholesome, educational conferences and programs that are compatible with Biblical values and WinShape's purpose."

You can get the full details at the link below, as well as all the gory details of the support Chick-fil-a lends to anti-gay groups. Part of the story includes the video below being removed from "Reel Love Video Challenge."

This video is fantastic. After you watch it, read the article at the link below. I hope after that you will join me in signing the petition to support a group of students in Indiana trying to do something about the injustice. I also won't be eating at a Chick-fil-a until they change their tune. If one of us is oppressed, we are all oppressed.

In the meantime, I will leave you with this obscure quote from a little book you may have at least heard of in all the debate about gay rights and gay marriage. It was probably written by some nut though.

1 Corinthians 13:1-13
If I speak with the tongues of men and of angels, but do not have love, I have become a noisy gong or a clanging cymbal.

And if I have the gift of prophecy, and know all mysteries and all knowledge; and if I have all faith, so as to remove mountains, but do not have love, I am nothing.

And if I give all my possessions to feed the poor, and if I deliver my body to be burned, but do not have love, it profits me nothing.

Love is patient, love is kind, and is not jealous; love does not brag and is not arrogant, does not act unbecomingly; it does not seek its own, is not provoked, does not take into account a wrong suffered, does not rejoice in unrighteousness, but rejoices with the truth; bears all things, believes all things, hopes all things, endures all things.

Love never fails; but if there are gifts of prophecy, they will be done away; if there are tongues, they will cease; if there is knowledge, it will be done away.

For we know in part, and we prophesy in part; but when the perfect comes, the partial will be done away.

When I was a child, I used to speak as a child, think as a child, reason as a child; when I became a man, I did away with childish things.

For now we see in a mirror dimly, but then face to face; now I know in part, but then I shall know fully just as I also have been fully known.

But now abide faith, hope, love, these three; but the greatest of these is love.

Now, click this link and do something about it!

After all these years

Today marks the 33rd anniversary of my father's death. I am 35.

It's so strange to miss someone and hurt so much after so long when you never really knew them.

I have a few memories that are more like still images. I don't remember what he looked like moving. Until I saw some old home movies, I felt like I'd never seen him move. He was almost a figment of my imagination, no more real to me than my stuffed rabbit. I don't remember what it felt like to touch him or how my name sounded when he spoke it. I don't know how he smelled.

It was so long ago, and the longer it is, the further away, less real, he seems. I can remember going to his grave when I was little before the grass had completely grown back. It makes me angry that I wasn't more cognitive back then to try and remember and hold on to those memories. I was so much closer then and had no idea.

Now, I struggle to remember what it was like to have been that close in time to when he really existed. I can't miss him really. It's more a longing to be connected, an overwhelming desire to have memories of my own, to have known my father.

I'm told I'm much like him. I look like him, though less so as I get older. I've had many people come back into my life that knew me when my daddy was alive. They tell us stories, share pictures, and we even got a video of him playing football in high school. Maybe one day a recording of his voice will surface. I can hope.

I didn't cry on this day when I was younger, but I do now. Joe is sweet and holds me. Henry licks away my tears. Tomorrow will come as it always does, and I'll keep on surviving. Breathe in, breathe out. Try to remember.