Yesterday morning I had the privilege of standing honor at the funeral of one of America's heroes. Anthony Williams was only 21 years old when he gave his life for his country on his second tour in Afghanistan. As I stood in the cold spring drizzle I had the chance to think about what I was seeing and to marvel at the lengths that people were willing to go to pay their respects. There was at least 60 of us standing guard. Young, old, well educated and not. It didn't matter. It was cold and windy and it rained on and off all morning. No one complained. I was honored to stand with them. I felt blessed to see it. And I realized that if it hadn't been for the evil of Fred Phelps, this organization would not have formed, and fewer people would make the effort to honor our soldiers. A very young Marine, a close friend of the the deceased, came through the line and shook every single one of our hands. He had tears running down his cheeks and yet he stood and looked each of us in the eye and shook our hands and said thank you. My warm tears mingled with the cold drizzle and I was grateful simply to be there. Something good from evil comes.