He was a slick-fielding, light hitting second baseman for the church softball team.
He sold microscopes for the E. Leitz Company.
Later, he heard a call that changed not only his life, but the lives of everyone in his family.
He taught me how to tie a tie, shine my shoes, throw a spiral, dry the dishes, and dig a hole.
He wielded The Paddle.
He whistled duotone harmonies.
He struggled. He persevered. He dreamed. He played. He sang. He laughed. He cried.
He served his family, his church, his community, and his God.
He taught me how to see the unseen, seek justice, speak for the voiceless, advocate for those on the margins.
He was my dad.
She saw the world at an early age.
She was the darling pet of her three brothers.
She wrote prolifically and well.
She always made sure her children knew they were safe and loved.
She threw a baseball “just like a boy.”
She baked the best, most fragrant bread in the world.
She loved her God and her neighbor as herself.
She loved, supported, encouraged, and followed her husband through thick and thin.
She was beautiful.
She was my mom.
These are the first saints I think of today, on this “All Saints Day.”
They are the most important ones who shaped my life in profound, lasting ways… but far from the only ones.
They both taught me that as they lived, they also stood on the shoulders of others… paying forward the blessings conferred on them.
Today, in some small way, I hope I have followed their example.
I love you mom and dad… and all the other saints I’ve been privileged to meet along the way.
Abundant blessings;
Russellings of the Spirit 
I feel as though I’m always on the same page of the heart with you, Russell. My parents are my Saints. They have a wonderful story of love. They’re my heroes. On a side note~my Dad is in the Missouri Softball Hall of Fame for fast pitch. I grew up on the field and played myself. Your parents sound like angels. Thank you for blessing us!
They were far from perfect, certainly, but they were the most important influences in my life. My mother died when I was 17, so I probably tend to “sanctify” her a little more than my dad.
Yes, I understand. What a loss for a young man.
Beautiful post!
Thank you!