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When love wins

Amazing words were spoken last night at dinner. Words I never dreamed I’d hear and words I know my dad wondered if he would ever speak.

While having dinner out with my dad and boys, our waitress asked my dad who we were. He replied, “This is my son and my grandkids.”

It’s a long ugly story but until January 20 of this year I hadn’t spoke to my dad in more than 30 years.

I am confident that anyone who knows the details surrounding the circumstances would not have given our reunion a one in a million chance of ever taking place, let alone my dad having dinner with his grandchildren.

But last night, in a quiet little Mexican restaraunt, in a small Oklahoma town, a huge miracle took place. For the first time in his life, my dad introduced his grandsons to a total stranger. Three generations of Sanders breaking bread nearly 20 years after the youngest had been born.

It may seem small to some but to anyone who has ever been deeply hurt, awfully abused, severely neglected, struggled with forgiveness, suffered from a broken heart, pondered the possibility of reconciliation or considered the thrill of ultimate revenge, nights like last night are realities that never seem possible. But miracles do happen and the most common of words can become monumental when love wins.

I still can’t believe it. Most of all, it makes me smile.

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