And not a bad thing

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After this last month, this last week, today:

This.

A big lump of scar

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grandbohemia.comOur first baby in the foster-to-adopt program was Tyler. It’s still so vivid, the day we got the call that a newborn boy needed a home. We breathlessly flew to the hospital, and this tiny 3-day-old was delivered to us in the parking deck by his county caseworker. She had assured us of the details, that although the adoption process was not guaranteed, there was no family that was interested in taking him and most likely Tyler would be a permanent placement.

We knew better than to be so hopeful, but we wanted children so much, and had waited so long. So we took him home and fell hopelessly in love. Tyler was my beautiful, happy son for three blissful months. And then the truth came out. Tyler had an aunt and uncle who had already adopted his older sister. But his caseworker just didn’t like them and had taken it upon herself to keep Tyler from them. That was idiotic; blood relatives with no issues always had priority in foster placements, and the time came shortly thereafter when we had to give Tyler up. Willingly handing my son over to a government agent to take away from me was the single hardest thing I’ve ever had to do, and a part of me died that day. Read the rest of this entry

How is a pastor like a dental hygienist?

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dental crownI ran across some notes I made once after hearing a good message from Dr. Charles Stanley. I don’t agree with all his dogma by any means, so I won’t recommend him in toto, but his message on a particular Sunday morning was a pretty sound one and it got me thinking, as I sometimes do.

His point, with which I agree: there is a difference between intellectually acknowledging the theory of Jesus Christ as the son of God, and actually having a relationship with him. Let’s face it, there are millions of people out there who will say without a moment’s hesitation, “Oh yeah, I believe in God and Jesus” and so they consider themselves Christians. And they do believe he exists, because they were raised that way, that’s what they were taught, that’s what everybody believes, in the same way you believe what your mom tells you she heard about your cousin’s neighbor’s son, whom you also never met. Read the rest of this entry

Alphabet Soup

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alphabet-soupA- Age: 53 years.

B- Biggest Fear: Being lost.

C- Current Time: 3:47 p.m. Eastern.

D- Drink you last had: Chocolate milk. Because it’s primo with lasagna.

E- Easiest Person To Talk to: Nobody is easy for me to talk to. There are people who are easy to chat with and easy to be with, but if the intent of this statement is people it’s easy to reveal myself to, then it’s nobody. Read the rest of this entry

Well, I didn’t mean THAT!

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When I was a kid I adored my oldest brother Tim and his wife Sue. They married when he was in the Navy serving in ‘Nam and she lived with my family for a year until he was discharged. It was like magically gaining another adult sister, and I’ve always loved her just that way, even many years later when she is no longer an actual in-law. She was beautiful and sophisticated to my mind, big eyes and makeup and teased hair. I remember them coming to surprise me at school when he was home on leave, and with pride how the other elementary age boys in my class ogled her.

I stayed with them in their first apartment for a weekend while my folks were out of town and made a pest of myself, teasing Sue like an 11-year-old little brother would. I remember that apartment and that weekend with special magical fondness: Sue making her fabulous scratch pizza, hearing my brother explain Iron Butterfly’s In-A-Gadda-Da-Vida and its horrible story late at night before falling asleep on their wicker couch.

The next day they took me home and my brother unveiled to us all a special painting he had had commissioned of Sue: an oil “Glamor Shots” of the day. Read the rest of this entry