Always My Hero

Just last week, we were home as a family enjoying a beautiful summer evening when David got a Search and Rescue callout. Before I even knew what had happened, he had donned his SAR yellow shirt and dashed out the door. That's the way it works—the call comes and David goes. Any time of day or night, any place someone is lost, hurt, or in danger, whether high on a mountain ledge or in choppy, dark lake.

I learned later that this particular call was regarding an eight-year-old child who had fallen into a fast-moving river. Utah has lost several children in its rivers and streams, which are dangerously close to flood stage and bitter cold with snow runoff—the streams are also temptingly close to parks and camping sites. This case had a very sad ending, and the child was recovered but didn't survive. David, who is the sergeant of the swift-water rescue team, worked tirelessly in the effort and was all the more exhausted and devastated that this child had died.

There is nothing more sobering than to see a group of rough, tough guys, accustomed to all kinds of extreme terrain and human peril, simply break down when a small child is lost. When David came home that night, he was worn down completely; physically spent and emotionally drained. I saw in him someone who had given everything he had to help someone else—and who would do it again in the second his pager goes off.

That's the kind of man that David is, and the kind of husband and father he has always been: someone who gives EVERYTHING he has to help others. I am honored and humbled to be a part of his life and so very grateful for the example of generosity and selflessness he provides our children and me. On Father's Day and every day, David, you are my hero.