This is not a movie about flying in the superhero sense, but you already know me. I am always going to find the superhero angle when a story gives me one, and The Boy Who Could Fly gives me plenty. Eric Gibb may not wear a costume, carry a secret identity or fight villains in the sky, but the idea of a lonely, misunderstood boy with an impossible gift still feels like superhero storytelling wrapped inside a tender coming-of-age drama. He is different. He is watched. He is mis

That is what makes The Crow one of the most unforgettable supernatural hero stories ever created. It is dark, emotional, gothic, violent, poetic, musical, and filled with pain. But beneath all of that darkness is a story about devotion. It is about a man whose love was so real that death could not completely silence it.

A good father does more than help build a home. He helps build the people inside it. His words can become a child’s inner voice. His consistency can become their sense of safety. His encouragement can become the confidence they carry into adulthood. His prayers can cover them when he cannot be physically present. His example can teach them what integrity, discipline, love, humility and faithfulness look like in real life.

On the eve of my 18th wedding anniversary with my wife, Tajuana, I find myself grateful. Not casually grateful, but deeply grateful. Grateful for love. Grateful for friendship. Grateful for covenant. Grateful for the journey. Grateful for the laughter, the lessons, the growth and even the challenges that taught us how to keep choosing each other.

Life is heavy enough without trying to carry it alone. We need people who can laugh with us when joy shows up, pray with us when trouble comes, correct us when we are wrong and remind us who we are when the world tries to make us forget. We need people who don’t just celebrate the highlight reel, but stand close during the hard chapters, the confusing seasons and the moments when we are not at our best.

One of the things people rarely talk about is how many mothers carried entire families while silently battling their own exhaustion, heartbreak, disappointment, and fear. Many smiled publicly while privately praying for strength just to make it through another day. They sacrificed dreams, postponed healing, ignored their own pain, and continued showing up because somebody depended on them.

When God favors us with mothers and mother figures, He gives us something powerful. He gives us nurture. He gives us covering. He gives us wisdom. He gives us correction. He gives us warmth. He gives us somebody who can see what we need before we know how to ask for it. And even when the relationship is imperfect, complicated or absent, the need for mothering still speaks to something God placed deep within the human heart.

Angel is the kind of hero you have to sit with. The kind of hero you have to wrestle with. The kind of hero that forces you to confront uncomfortable truths about guilt, identity, accountability, and whether a person can ever truly become more than the worst thing they’ve done. Because Angel doesn’t just fight evil. He remembers being it. And that changes everything about how we understand him.

Nearly 80 years later, this film is still saving people. And in a time where suicide rates continue to rise and people feel more isolated, overwhelmed, or forgotten than ever… the message of this movie is not just relevant. It’s necessary. Today, I want to explore why It’s a Wonderful Life remains a timeless treasure — not because of nostalgia, but because it speaks directly to the human heart.