I just had the mother of all Father’s Days. Pardon the pun.
How can that be, you ask. Father’s day is tomorrow, you point out. Ah, but not for me. See, I’m a pastor and Sunday is crazy at the best of times, so we celebrated it today. And man, did it rock.
I got a special breakfast to start it off, ala my wife Shauna. I got cute cards, great crafts, tender hugs, and lotsa lovin’. And then we packed ourselves up and drove off to the mountains. First, we hiked up a jumbled creekbed up to a the base of a waterfall. Near the top the riverbed was packed with twenty foot deep ice & snow and coated with broken pine trees and branches from an avalanche. 
And then, at the base of the falls the water had eroded away the ice so we could get under it, right next to the falls. We climbed right down into the thing and then exited via an ice tunnel. That was one of the thrills of my life, and I got to share it with my kids (and later, Shauna did it too, though it didn’t make it onto video).
And then we saw Mountain sheep. Twenty of ’em or so, right up close. Probably 7 or 8 Rams in the bunch with full head gear.
And then we stopped for a snack and fed ground squirrels from our hands. 
And we saw a bald eagle and an offsprey. And it was supposed to rain and was gorgeous instead. And the kids were pretty much darlings. And then when we got home we cuddled on the couch and watched Finding Nemo.
I mean, really — it just don’t get better ‘n nat. Thanks, God!