Dale.
Debra.
Dawna.
Dana.
Danita.
Darrel.
Dennis.
Dexter.
Denver.
Deanna.
Yes there were that many “D-Days” in just the first two generations of Kelly & Erasta Day’s family.
Naming your children with a “D” in the Day family must have been a very popular thing. We even have cousins Diane and another Darrel but with last names starting with “H” instead of “D”.
Throughout my lifetime, I’ve always been asked if I was a member of the other “D-Day” clan.
“Is your dad the pastor at Church of Christ?”
“Your dad has the big lights display there in Versailles, doesn’t he?”
No. My dad’s Tom.
The other D’Day’s got the same questions and sometimes the additional, “now you’re Tom’s child, right?”
I think the teachers dreaded seeing another D-Day come through their class at South Ripley especially once Dennis got in school. haha 🙂
I know growing up there were times I was embarrassed our parents seemed to find a game of coming up with names beginning with D’s. Other times I smiled as people would try to recall my name and go all the way through “Debra, Dawna, Dana and Danita” before they hit “Deanna.”
Sometimes I would get angry if we were teased about it while other times it was so exciting to be a part of a big D-Day team.
But Friday, during the original D-Day’s funeral (my Uncle Dale), I was reminded how cool it is to be a part of such a big family. I sat and listened to testimony after testimony of how my Pastor uncle had touched what could be thousands of lives by a ripple effect of over 60 years in ministry.
There were writings in papers and magazines and emails that stretched all the way to Australia. He was called by the Lord and took that calling seriously. There was no rest for him. Whether he was preaching a revival in another town or witnessing in his own, he would make it his mission to go and knock on doors and visit as many people as possible because all he cared about was telling people about Jesus so they, too could spend eternity in heaven.
Story after story of his witnessing. A legacy I want to continue.
While knocking on doors and going house to house isn’t the safest thing to do these days, God has called each of us to a different role of witnessing in the path He set out for us. It’s a serious calling and I know Uncle Dale was greeted by a loving God with a big ole crown in His hand saying “Come on in, D-Day. Well done, good and faithful servant.”
He will be missed by many as hundreds rolled through that funeral home viewing and sat in those pews for a wonderful celebration of his life.
And I realized another emotion popped up in my heart. Honor and thankfulness.
Yes, I am honored and thankful to be a D-Day.
