by Judy Bettendorf as told to Brooke Keith Ten fingers, ten toes. (My husband, Pete, knew; he counted five times.) Feathery soft fuzz atop her head. We’d never seen anything quite like her. Our daughter, born March 3, 2003, was beautiful — a perfect example of God‘s handiwork. Her name would be Lisa. That…
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A Slow Surrender
Sometimes letting go doesn’t come easily or quickly. by Priscilla Tate Gilmore Last Saturday morning was my turn to call my adopted daughter for our mother-daughter bonding time. After the initial exchange of weekly events, Katie* announced, “I found and talked with my birth mom, and I was thinking we could meet sometime. What…
Read moreA Father’s Love
Only miles and bars separate a son from his father. by J. Grant Swank I just got home from visiting my son — in prison. My wife and I drove the l000 miles one way, hitting the road last Tuesday morning. It was one interstate after another — not the easiest jaunt in the…
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