My father, V. Richard Carter, would have been 84 years old today.
Amongst his belongings that I brought home last year was his graduate school commencement announcement. He completed a degree at New Orleans Baptist Theological Seminary.
He was 26 years old when he finished seminary, soon to turn 27. My mother was 23, soon to turn 24. And I was ten months old.
Think of it — married less than two years, finishing seminary, with a new-born son, faithing that a church placement would be there for them. And it was, in Coushatta, Louisiana, a town of 3,000 souls near Shreveport.