Quite the Grip

My dad died on August 25, 2016. On July 27th, my sister took him to an appointment with his pulmonologist because he was having fluid buildup in his chest and it was making it hard for him to breathe. The doctor admitted him to the hospital so she could do a procedure to drain the fluid off. When I got off of work, I had a voicemail from my sister telling me he was in the hospital.

I went to the hospital and when I got to his room he was sitting in a chair beside the bed. The tv was off and he was just sitting there thinking. He did that a lot. Whenever I would visit him at home he would do that. I walked over to him and shook his hand. I squeezed it firmly and he did the same to my hand.

“That’s quite the grip you got there,” I told him.

“So is yours,” he said and smiled.

I was kind of joking with him because he was very frail. He had lost a lot of weight over the last few months and he was skin and bones. He really did have a good grip, though. After that, every time I came to visit him for the month he was in the hospital, I would always shake his hand and say he had quite the grip. He would always smile.

When he was admitted, he had some other things going on besides his breathing that needed to improve before they could do the procedure to drain fluid off his lungs. A week after he was admitted, he had to be put on a ventilator and put in ICU. He was never able to get off the ventilator so I never heard him speak again. He had a note book he would use to communicate with us. Whenever I would visit him in ICU, I would shake his hand and he still had a good grip. I would tell him so and he would smile and point to me.

I was at work the day he died. My older brother called me and told me Dad’s nurse said all the family should go to the hospital. Dad wasn’t doing good and he wrote in his note book he was going to die today.

I left work and got to the hospital. He was still alert and aware of things. He noticed when I walked in and I shook his hand and told him he had quite the grip. He smiled. I stepped away from his bed and watched as other family members talked to him. I listened to his monitors beep every now and then because his blood pressure was low and his oxygen saturation levels were getting too low. I knew he really was going to die that day. The nurse told us the ventilator was maxed out and he was getting the maximum dose of blood pressure medicine and it wasn’t helping. He died a few hours later.

I contemplated the forty-six years I’d been privileged to have him as my dad. The thing I thought about was the spiritual inheritance he left me. He had quite the grip on being a Christian. He was very firm and unwavering in his walk with God. He left my siblings and me with the same firm and unwavering walk with God.

I’m glad he’s in Heaven and reunited with Mom. I look forward to the day I can see him and again and shake his hand. I’ll tell him he’s got quite the grip and I can’t wait to see him smile.

The Baby Tree

When my wife and I found out we had miscarried, we deeply felt the loss, even though she was only six weeks pregnant and our child was a wee little thing. We decided to buy a tree as a memorial for our child. We wrote notes to it and put them in a plastic bag and put it in the hole we dug for the tree. We planted it in our front yard and we call it The Baby Tree.

It's an Eastern Redbud. In the spring, it has a lot of really pretty blossoms on it, but it wasn't always so. It was very skinny when we first got it and I had to put a tree staking kit around it to support it. When the weather would be stormy and windy the tree would flop all over the place. A year after I planted it we had a very strong thunderstorm and the tree trunk broke right above where the support ring for the tree staking kit was. It was hanging by a small sliver of bark so I got a saw and cut it off the rest of the way.

We were afraid it would die so we called a nursery and asked them about it. They said it would start growing branches right beneath where it broke. Sure enough, about a month later, I saw some branches growing right under where the trunk broke. It's now eight years later and the trunk has turned into a thick, strong base for all the branches that have grown from it. The tree has a very full canopy and in the spring it has an abundance of redbuds.

When I think of that tree, I think about how we each reach a breaking point in our lives. With God's help we can turn what's left from those breaking points into a firm foundation God can use for all the fruit our lives will produce.

Reaching a breaking point isn't bad. It can strip away all the unnecessary things we've let get into our lives that take our focus off of God. All the things we've been doing to make ourselves into what we think we need to be. God strips all that away to make us into what He wants us to be. The end result is much more glorious than anything our feeble efforts could've accomplished.

When we had our miscarriage, we were broken. We wanted a child so bad but we realized God was taking us in a different direction. We trusted Him completely. We became foster parents and had many more children in our home and had the privilege of adopting one of them. When it's stormy and windy and I feel like at my end, I know good things are on the way.

Final Order of Adoption

Our daughter was a week old when she was placed in our home. We knew from the beginning we would have a good chance of adopting her. I was at work when my wife went to the hospital to pick her up. I knew she was black and, when I got home, I was excited to see her. I was expecting her hair to be curly but it was straight and flat against her head. That lasted about a month and then it got curly very fast. She was so stinking cute. Yes, I am unashamedly biased. She's my daughter, of course, she's the cutest one.

When she was a baby and we took her places we would carry her in a baby carrier. When I would take her out of the carrier, I noticed people would be watching to get a glimpse of a cute baby. When they saw she was black they would do a double take. It was funny. They weren't expecting to see a white dude with a black baby. After a few years, I stopped even noticing it. I did carry a copy of the Final Order of Adoption with me in case any police wanted to question me. I never really thought they would because they would conclude she was adopted. It just made me feel better in case they did.

When she was three years old, I took her to a park and thought I was going to have to pull it out and make use of it. We were at the far end of the park. A long way from where my truck was parked. We had been there for an hour and a half and needed to leave so we could be home for dinner. I told her it was time to go and she said she didn't want to. She sat down and wouldn't move at all. So I had to pick her up and carry her and she fought me and squirmed the whole time. She kept yelling no and saying she didn't want to go. When I say she yelled, I want to make sure you understand the girl has  a tremendous set of lungs residing in her chest. Everyone knew she was not going willingly.

This is the time, I thought. I can just see how this looks. White guy carting off black kid. A cop is going to stop me any moment now. But I made it to my truck without being stopped. I put her in the car seat and got in the driver's seat. I started the truck and then closed my eyes for about five minutes and collected myself. Carrying a thirty-five pound child who's fighting you all the way, as far as I had to carry her, was exhausting. She was still crying so I got a tissue and got out of the car and walked to her door and cleaned all the snot off her face.

A year later, I took her to the mall. It was about five p.m. and we ate dinner in the food court and then split a big chocolate chip cookie. We then walked around and I let her ride the little kiddie rides that were in various places in the mall. By the Belk for Men store there was a playground she played on for a while. She noticed there was a frozen yogurt place there. She wanted to get a frozen yogurt and I told her she'd already had a big cookie and she didn't need any more sweets. She didn't protest and we moved on to JC Penney.

She wanted to go up the escalator so we did that. Then she wanted to go down the elevator. The elevator lets you out in the children's clothes section on the first floor. We made that circuit of going up the escalator and down the elevator for about forty-five minutes. The ladies working in children's clothing started greeting us every time we got off the elevator. Finally, she said she was tired. We went out of the store and found a bench to sit on. By this time it was seven thirty and I needed to get her home. She asked if she could get a frozen yogurt. I told her no again and told her we needed to go home. To say that answer did not meet with her approval in any approximation would be a gross understatement.

She said no very loudly. As I mentioned before, the child was blessed with a tremendous set of lungs. I found we had garnered the attention of a few folks. It was then that I was struck by the thought that I was parked at the other end of the mall. I would have to get her all the way through the mall when she was quite unwilling to go. She also decided to start yelling for MOMMY.

I quietly told her it was time go and took a hold of her hand and started walking. She weighed too much for me to carry her. She worked her hand out of my grip and threw herself on the floor all the while yelling NO and I WANT MY MOMMY. So I grabbed her wrist and really had to clamp down on her to keep her from working her hand free. It really did look like I was trying to make off with a kid who really didn't want to go with me. Naturally, I thought this would be the time I got stopped and questioned.

We trudged our way through the mall. I was half dragging her. She walked enough to where I wasn't dragging her but it was close to being that. We were definitely the center of attention. I made it outside the mall and was close to my truck when I heard this car behind me and turned to see what was going on. I saw this car coming right for me and at the last minute the car pulled beside me.

"Is everything ok?" the lady driver asked me. I noticed she had two kids in the back seat. They looked like they were thirteen or fourteen. My first thought was it's none of your business. But then I immediately thought it was good she cared enough to at least question the situation.

"Yes, everything's fine," I answered. "She doesn't want to leave the mall but it's time for her to go home and go to bed."

"I just heard her yelling 'No' and calling for her mom and just wanted to check on it."

"My wife and I adopted her. Her mom's at home and she thinks her mom will save her from having to leave the mall."

"Ok. I've adopted my kids," she said and pointed in the back seat. "I know how it is. I just wanted to make sure everything was ok."

I thanked her and she drove off. I wasn't mad at her. I was a little perturbed with my kid but I wasn't mad at the lady. I thought it was nice she cared enough to question the situation. I thought it was funny that right after I got my daughter in the truck and I got in a police car drove by. It probably had nothing to do with me because it's pretty common to see police at the mall.

Thankfully, scenes like that haven't happened anymore. She's eight now and she does have some tantrums but not to that degree. Part of her behavior is because of the drugs she was exposed to in utero. She has gotten better the older she gets. Hopefully, that continues. Just all part of the great adventure we are on. I've also stopped carrying the Final Order of Adoption with me.I don't worry anymore about people questioning us being together. We act like Father/Daughter and it shows. There's no doubt about it.


 I think about how God has adopted me. When Jesus died on the cross and shed His blood and said, "It is finished", that was the Final Order of Adoption. His blood is on the door post of my heart just like it was on the door post for the Israelites during the first Passover. It marked them as His. It marks me as His. I'm His child and there's no doubt about it.

Framing the Argument

A lot has been written about abortion and how it's supporters go through quite a bit of verbal gymnastics to justify something that is profoundly unjust. The verbal jockeying they do is astounding. They are always coming up with new ways to explain it.

So why do they do it? Why do they keep coming up with new phrases and terms for it? They take after the father of lies and deception. In the Garden of Eden, Satan did this to the first humans. He used God's word and asked a seemingly innocent question. He framed it in such a way as to cause doubt and confusion.

The anti-lifers are just following in his footsteps. They have company. The slaveowners took to verbal jockeying to justify the enslavement of an entire race. They even used scripture. The Nazi's used all kinds euphemisms to justify extermination of a race. They had a Propaganda Minister to frame the argument to justify what they did. Now we have abortion. It's supporters framing the argument and jockeying and maneuvering the language to support a cause.

In all that jockeying and maneuvering, they stake out a position that is untenable. That's because they've placed themselves in opposition to God. If you have to frame the argument and twist words and meanings to support your cause, then your cause isn't worth supporting. What are you trying to hide? Why not come straight out and say it plainly? It's simple. Pro-lifers have done it from day one. It's murder. It's no surprise that abortion clinics don't want the women who come to them for an abortion to see an ultrasound of their baby. A great majority of those women change their mind when they are able to see the ultrasound.

They wanted abortion to be legal so it would be "safe". Women wouldn't have to get unregulated back ally abortions, but, when some commonsense regulations are proposed, like parental notification and requiring doctors to have admitting privileges at a hospital, you'd think they were having their fingernails ripped out with all the howling and caterwauling that goes on.

When someone talks about framing the argument I know I won't be getting the whole picture.

Brave and Courageous

A lot of things get labeled as brave and courageous by the liberal media and Democrats. Most of them aren't really brave and courageous. Like a man deciding he's a woman and dressing and acting like one. Overpaid politicians staging a sit in on the floor of the House of Representatives. Cities establishing themselves as Sanctuary Cities and providing a safe space for illegals. Then there's abortion. Women who have abortions and even film them are labeled as brave and courageous. I fail to see what is brave about killing a completely defenseless human.

I mentioned in my last post the girl my wife and I adopted was born drug exposed. I had never thought about drug exposed babies. Being a foster parent opened my eyes to how many there are. We had several in our home and the foster parents we knew had, at one time or another, some of them.

Our daughter was the third drug exposed child her mom had given birth to. When we were waiting for the mom's parental rights to be terminated, the social worker told us the mom would also be charged with severe abuse because she had given birth to three drug exposed babies. That got me to thinking that if she had aborted her children she wouldn't have been charged with anything and liberals would say she was brave and courageous. She gives birth to them and she's charged with severe abuse. She should be charged with severe abuse but at least she gave birth to them. If it's okay to kill a baby then why is she charged with exposing them to drugs. If she's going to be charged with severe abuse for doing that then abortion should also be a crime.

I know a woman can be in a very difficult situation and she knows she can't provide for the child after she gives birth.  Maybe they were raped and carrying the child to term would be a severe emotional and constant reminder of what happened to them. I just hope they would choose life and give birth to the child and keep it or put it up for adoption. That would be a brave and courageous thing to do. There are crisis pregnancy centers that can help them through the pregnancy. Do I condemn women who have had abortions? No. I pray they find God and discover they can be forgiven. Pray they can find peace and comfort in God. But I will not apologize for calling abortion what it is. You can't go wrong by choosing life.


If today's liberal media and Democrat Party had been around when Eve took that bite out of a certain piece of fruit, they would've called her brave and courageous.

Getting Started

My wife and I got started in foster parenting because of a miscarriage. We hadn't given it any thought up until then. After the miscarriage, my wife saw a fertility doctor. She did that because she was thirty-nine and it had taken her three years to get pregnant. The fertility doctor did a Clomid Challenge Test and told us she had a poor ovarian reserve. He suggested we look into adoption.

I'm a big believer that God engineers your circumstances. I think all the things we went through were part of getting us to consider adoption. We looked into private adoption and quickly discovered it would cost too much. So we looked into foster parenting. We knew it could be years before we would have a child in our home that would be available to adopt. We decided to let God handle it and not worry about it. He would place the child he wanted us to adopt in our home when it was the right time.

The child we adopted has been with us for eight years now. She was a week old when she was placed in our home. We fully believe God put her with us. It's been challenging and sometimes we feel like we are not up to it. She was born drug exposed. We've had to take her to physical therapy and occupational therapy and see a child psychiatrist. It's been a roller coaster. Sometimes we wonder why God put her with us. We feel so inadequate at times when she is so hyper it seems like she blasted off from Cape Canaveral and is on her way to the moon. She just goes so fast from one thing to the next it's exhausting trying to keep up with her.

Eventually she reenters the atmosphere and we try to provide her with a parachute so she'll have a soft landing. Sometimes she burns up on reentry and passes out on us. She gets real quiet and says she's tired. We waste no time getting her in her pajamas and her teeth brushed and in bed. Then we enjoy a few hours in the evening of peace and quiet. Through all that, though, we are so happy God chose us to be her parents.

Even though she's eight, we are still just getting started with her. She finished first grade in May. She has so much ahead of her. I'm excited about what God has in store for her and for us as her parents. The things He'll teach us along the way. Trusting Him to lead us and help us be the best parents we can be for her.