New International Version (NIV)
5 A father to the fatherless, a defender of widows,
is God in his holy dwelling.
Fifty years ago tonight I went to sleep in all security in a world that didn't stretch much further than my family, my church, my little town. Yes, I had progressed far enough in school to know that it did; but as I fell asleep in the upstairs bedrooms that held my dear sisters and brothers, I was a child most blessed. Fifty years ago tomorrow, my grade school teacher came into our classroom shaken in a way that I did not know to tell us of the death of our President and then quickly lowered our classroom flag. In the following days I watched along with everyone else this National tragedy playing out on our little black and white TV.
The President and the First Lady had been such a glamorous couple, educated and stylish in a way my parents weren't, but what fascinated me most was their children, especially Caroline. I may have even wanted to be her in my imaginings. Fifty years ago tomorrow, however, I stopped wanting to be her. It was the day I learned that father's could die.
Orphans of God