Guest Blogger

Well, if you haven't noticed, I need help.  Especially in keeping up with my blog.  :) This time it's my mom to write, but stay tuned to hear from my aunt and my sisters over the next couple weeks.

My Grandaddy passed away in April, and on May 5th we had a wonderful celebration of his life.  Here  is my mom, talking about her Daddy...

You must be a southern girl if you call your father "daddy". 

I called Deane Farrar Laird daddy for 60 years. I know the Bible says you won't be married in heaven, and I know we will be enraptured with our Heavenly Father, but, all the same, I hope I still get to call my earthly father "daddy" when I see him again!  He will always be that to me.

Daddy was overseas fighting for our country in the Korean War when I was born July 22, 1951 in Atlanta, Georgia.  I was named for him--Jennifer Deane. A telegram announced my birth and six months later, he found me under the Christmas tree in a basket which I still treasure and use today!

Daddy never taught in a classroom, but he taught me and my four other siblings so much--lessons for fun and lessons for life.  What he loved, I grew to love.  He loved dogs, especially Boxers.  No cats allowed. He loved riding horses.  Daddy taught me to ride a pony at Mr. Still's pony farm in Atlanta.  We would often go after church, and Sunday afternoons were spent circling the block as fast as our ponies would run!  When I started elementary school, I started horseback riding lessons.  Daddy was born and grew up in rural Ohio loving riding his horse Lady, so he wanted me to have the same experiences.

Daddy loved sports--so do I. He taught me to play basketball and tennis and throw a ball as well as any boy.  He and mother came to every game in high school and he was usually the loudest of all the parents.  

Daddy loved the land.  When I started the 8th grade, he and several other men went in together to buy a farm about 60 miles south of Atlanta.  It was an investment to most of the others, but to our family, it was a second home....only don't think luxury beach house or mountain chalet, but rather old tenent house with leaky roof and window fans.  During the school year, we would spend many Saturdays at the farm and summers were full of riding, fishing, swimming, and exploring.  Daddy taught me to fly-fish for bass and bream from a flat-bottom boat, long before it was the cool thing to do.  He took me quail and pheasant hunting and loved to tell everyone how long I waited to pull the trigger before bringing one down!  We went to school in the city, but daddy made sure we grew up in the country--free to get lost in the woods or take a spill off one of the horses.

It was from those early gardens at the farm that I learned how to plant, pick okra, shell limas and crave tomato sandwiches.  When mother and daddy moved next door over 20 years ago, we began to garden together--daddy and I planting and weeding--mother usually shelling.  We made a great team!

Daddy led our entire family to Explo '72 (think Passion for the entire family) and we were never the same.  They had Bible studies in their home where God drew many to Himself.  Daddy and mother went on short-term mission trips to Africa and they loved to have missionaries live with them or just share a meal.  They gave so much for the kingdom, all the time, teaching by example life's most important lessons.

Daddy's last lesson to me was how to finish well.  These last few months I never saw him complain--instead, he continued to be interested in others and their lives.  He faced death on this side with courage just like he had faced the enemy many years before. Deane Farrar Laird was a member of the "greatest generation".  He fought for his country, loved his family, and served his Savior, but to me, he was just "daddy", my teacher in life.  I'm so thankful that it won't be long, in light of eternity, before we enjoy heaven together.