Thirteen years ago today it was Father's Day, the most special one I'd known until then and since. It was a beautiful Sunday morning. The Bishops had just performed in West Virginia the night before, and soon after I'd settled into my bus bunk for the ride home my phone rang. The word was that Debra was ready to deliver our second child. Our first was named Casie, and she was the prettiest, smartest and most talented child ever born in these United States. We had a pretty good track record, and I had no reason to believe our son would be any less.
Soon after we learned we would have a son we settled on a name. I always liked the name Nicholas, so I proposed and lobbied for that one. We decided we could raise a Nicholas, so for most of her pregnancy that was his name. I even mentioned him in the liners of a recording we released while we waited for little Nick to arrive. But on delivery day, we changed our minds and liked the name Aaron Caleb instead. Those were two awesome guys in the Bible, and we liked the A.C. thing. So Nick became Aaron. But just before we were to give the attending nurse the name our beloved child would carry for the rest of his life we changed our minds again.
Just before the church bells started ringing on June 20, 1993 the announcement by way of a tiny cry introduced our family to one of its most lovable and tender members. After putting the nurse off for several more minutes we decided that we wanted our son to be known as a follower of Christ. His birth certificate reads Christian Caleb Bishop. The name Christian is a lot to live up to. Caleb was a great role model for the earliest faith. But the Bishop part is the one I'm most selfishly proud of. Happy birthday Pal! You know how much I love you.
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