Warning: Religious Thoughts to Follow

I recently came across this meme which was very timely considering my church just celebrated The Passover on Sunday evening (we keep the Holy Days outlined in the Old Testament modified as specifically demonstrated by Jesus Christ His Own Self in the New Testament). Passover, for the uninitiated, is one such Old Testament Holy Day which dates back to the Book of Exodus when the children of Israel put the blood of a lamb on their door posts and lintels so that the Death Angel would  literally pass over their house during the final plague of Egypt in which the first born were killed. The Old Testament commanded that the Israelites celebrate the Passover every year as a memorial to how God brought them out of Egypt. 

By the time of Christ, the ceremony had become more of a lavish and relaxed meal. Christ changed things up a bit at "The Last Supper" (which was a Passover meal immediately before He was arrested and condemned to death). He taught His disciples about the new meaning of the Passover which included the breaking/eating of bread and sipping of wine to symbolize the broken body of Christ and His shed blood for the remission of our sins. Other places in scripture say that Christ took the beating leading up to His Cruxifiction so that we could be healed. The main thing that Christ did during that ceremony was wash the feet of His followers as an act of humility and service. 

It is that act of service and humility that is a core practice in my church that baptized members perform every year as a solemn reminder of what He did for us. Most every year, we get a sermon or two leading up to The Passover talking about all the familiar bits about the bread, wine, the sacrifice, etc. Rarely does a minister focus on the foot washing. So, that is why struck me so strongly this year.

I tend to be a caretaker type personality to begin with, and acts of service come pretty naturally to me. That said, the point that brought me up short was that He KNEW He was going to die, He could have done ANYTHING, and He chose to wash the feet of his disciples. 

I admit that, when I run through the things I might want to do if I knew I was going to die tomorrow, washing feet is not at the top of that list. If I am being perfectly honest, it's not even in the top 10. That said, I would want to take those last few hours and spend as much of it with my wife and daughter and those close to me as I possibly could. 

We only get one chance at this ride, and there are no guarantees, do overs, returns or refunds. Make the most of  it of the time you are given. 

 

Faith and Other Assorted Spiritual Thoughts

I tend to keep my spiritual beliefs to myself being a private person; but, here lately, I've been rethinking that position. I don't intend to proselytize here for any specific brand of faith as it is my firm belief that everyone (even athiests whether they realize it or not) are on their own spiritual journey and need to grow in the direction that the Diety of their choosing sees fit to lead them. Having said that, I no longer intend to shy away from sharing my thoughts about my own spiritual walk and how it shapes my outlook on life. 

For those that care, we are non-denominational, Sabbath keeping, "apostolic" Christians. We are part of a church that teaches several things that fall outside of "traditional, mainstream" Christianity; however, we still believe in the Divinity of Christ, His death and resurrection, and His soon coming return which puts us on the same page with most people walking that general direction. What throws most people for a loop is we do not keep Easter, Halloween or Christmas but we do keep the Old Testament holy days.

I found this meme recently which struck a chord with me, and I wanted to share it outside the usual Friday Funnies chuckle fest. 

This concept, in my humble opinion, is where many well meaning believers go wrong (and it applies equally to other faiths...I'm looking at you radical Islam). New converts to a particular flavor of faith tend to be the worst about this (I've guilty of it myself in times past). It's also had a terribly polarizing influence on American politics on both the Republican and Democratic Parties. Prohibition laws (of all flavors) are a perfect example of this. Don't like (insert social ill here)? Don't drink it, smoke it, do it. As long as no one else is harmed in the process...you do you. Just don't ask me to approve of it. 

But Daddy Hawk, what about (something you think is utterly evil that has direct/indirect impact on others beyond the person using/doing said evil)? Shouldn't we protect (fill in your favorite helpless, defense less entity or object here)? I would agree that "we" collectively as a species should do a better job on a variety of issues. Here's the rub though: human nature makes us a stubborn, hypocritical lot that just wants to do what we want to do regardless of consequences. Murder has been outlawed since practically the beginning of time in every society that has existed (more or less...I'm sure there exceptions to the rule). Guess what? It still happens everyday. 

You want to solve the murder problem (or alcoholism or drug abuse or...)? It starts with you. Live the life your faith says you are supposed to live everyday and not just on the day you go worship. Live by example, and teach your kids to do the same. Volunteer somewhere and help others see you living your faith. You might just learn a thing or two in the process and reach a deeper understanding of your own faith.

This next one tickled me especially after the last 3 or so years of dealing with multiple issues and crises. It feels sometimes like God is sitting on a sofa somewhere drinking a beer looking at me and saying "Hit him again."

God (or Ever God in Heaven as M&M says), I do not wish that someone else go through trials but could I have a break? 

Shared Pain...Shared Joy

Once upon a time, I did a ride along with a Denton PD officer as part of a college project. During the ride along, one of the things I learned about were “Dear Chief” letters. Anytime an officer made a mistake that warranted the chief’s attention, the offending officer would write a letter to the Chief that started out “Dear Chief, much has transpired since last we spoke….” Also, one of my favorite quotes comes from the Callahan Cross Time Saloon series of books by Spider Robinson. That quote is in the side bar “Shared pain is lessened; shared joy, increased - thus do we refute entropy.” Well….Dear Readers, much has transpired since last we spoke. Entropy has been getting a workout.

It all started one fine Wednesday evening a month ago after we all thawed out from the great polar vortex event here in North Texas. It had been decided by The Queen and Princess M&M that Miss Tater Tot needed a companion to keep her company. Never mind the three cats, two dogs and multiple fish that were already in the house. I was informed Tater was lonely and needed a friend. The Queen had been in touch with a crazy bunny lady in a nearby suburb who had several varieties to choose from. After much deliberation and handling of many buns including a handsome Lop named Beast, a lovely blue otter colored, female, Netherland Dwarf rabbit came home to join our herd.

 

Thus began the naming saga. Many names were tried on for size and found to be lacking. At one point, M&M tossed out “Death” as a possible name. What ultimately stuck was “Graycie”. Now, you are supposed to keep bunnies quarantined from each other for a couple of weeks so they can get used to each other, make sure no illnesses are transferred, etc. Well, Graycie had other ideas. Despite our best efforts, we consistently found the little Houdini in Tater’s cage to the point we just threw up our hands in defeat and made one large bunny enclosure under M&M’s loft bed. They get along famously and are regularly seen flopped next to each other.

 

Two days later, I woke up Friday morning to an email from my niece and nephew from whom we have been renting/caretaking a house for the last several years. The email indicated that they had decided that they needed house back so that my niece and her friends could move in by early June. I had not had my morning caffeine injection by this point. It was a bit of an eyeopener to say the least. The Queen thought I was joking when I told her. I confirmed that I was indeed honest and true.

So, the hunt began for a house. We, by that I mean me, had been dead set against ever having a mortgage again. We had been making plans to build a house at Mimi’s property; however, that was a multi-step, multi-year project and we were barely in the planning stages due to the care and feeding of The Queen’s parents the last few years. Calls were made and we reached out to a realtor lady we had worked with a couple of years ago unsuccessfully when we were looking for an alternate situation. We quickly determined several key points in this process:

• In the course of two years, the North Texas real estate market went from bad to bat guano insane.
• Renting/leasing was not an option for several reasons
• Houses are staying on the market for less than a week and in some cases just hours.
• Agents are boldly stating “highest and best offer by Sunday”…and buyers are lining up to wave cash at them.
• It is not uncommon for houses to have multiple offers ABOVE asking price.
• As a single income family, our buying potential was limited which put us in a position of looking at the fringes of the market.

With God, all things are possible as they say.

Thanks, in part, to being a permanent remote worker now thanks to COVID, we literally looked at everything in our price range from the Oklahoma border south to Temple, and from Mineral Wells to Canton in a rough hour to an hour and a half circle around DFW Airport. The state of the market in that general area is crazy. Your choices within my budget are ugly small houses built in the 70s and 80s, sketchy neighborhoods, investor “lipstick on a pig” flip specials or fixer uppers. We agreed that, building not being an option, we wanted a house we could be happy with especially since we were going to have to bite the bullet and get a mortgage. So, we spent several late nights looking at the offerings on Zillow, Realtor.com, Craigslist, word of mouth, etc.

Our agent suggested we look at a house in Sherman, TX which was a fixer upper just on the other side of our pre-qual amount. It was in a nice, well established neighborhood that backed up to a wooded area with a creek running through it. The house was built in the 50s and was in desperate need of an update in addition to foundation work as the east wall was trying to separate from the rest of the house thanks to soil shifting. The current owner is an investor who bought it with the intent of doing a “lipstick on a pig” treatment for a quick turn around. The foundation issues put the kibosh on that thought. I was seeing the potential at the first showing, but The Queen was not. We dithered about whether or not to make an offer for a week or two, and we finally asked our agent to go have a second look at it a week ago today. The Queen finally started seeing what I was seeing as well as the potential financial upside. As we sat down to discuss with our agent what to do about making an offer, she called the listing agent who informed her that it was contingent. This was news to all of us as she had checked before we drove an hour and half to see the stupid thing. I said “I’m done” and walked straight out to the car. She apologized profusely for which there was no need on her part.

Anyway, back to the drawing board. Sunday evening and Monday, The Queen was staying up deep into night looking at houses all over North Texas. She located a few possibilities in Sulphur Springs which is an hour and half northeast of DFW. We made arrangements with our realtor to go see them on Tuesday.

The first house was immaculate. It was like a museum from the 1950s. The original owners of the house were a doctor and his wife who had the house built. They added a wing onto the house in 1960 when they started having kids. It had the original wool carpet. They had three sons who all grew up to be doctors. The original intercom/radio worked.  The original 1950 vintage electric range still worked. They had the old console TVs from the 1960s/1970s. They had the blue prints from when the house was originally built. The widow had moved out in 2015 to go to assisted living and died just last year. The surviving sons had kept the house just as she had left it for the last six years. It was jaw droppingly amazing for a one owner house of that vintage…but not for us.

The second house was nice but nothing special.

That brings us to the miracle house. We almost didn’t see if because there were already two contracts pending on it. The Queen and the realtor decided “why not?” and off we went. After a brief lunch stop, we made our scheduled showing time and stepped into the Twilight Zone. Imagine, if you will, a house originally built in Fort Worth in 1868, disassembled and rebuilt with the original lumber in Sulphur Springs in 1874. The house lives through several owners as a one-story farmhouse just a few hundred yards from the courthouse square for just over a hundred years before the current owner bought it. She and her husband decided that it needed full renovation. They added an entire second story including a grand, sweeping staircase. They gutted the walls, double insulated them, added Anderson double paned windows, rewired and replumbed the entire house, modernized the master suite and the kitchen. The house has over 3400 square feet and the asking price was right at the top end of my range. We loved the house. And we walked away deciding not to make an offer on it thinking we didn’t have a chance at it because of the pending offers.

Now, here is where Entropy really started to get a workout. First, at the miracle house, there is a bedroom upstairs that is pink. M&M immediately fell in love with the pink room and claimed it as her own. She then proceeded to have a great old time running around the upstairs playing. This will be important later in our story. Second, on our way home from Sulphur Springs, literally 1 minute from our house, The Queen’s chariot took one on the chin after a driver, whom I shall charitably call “clueless” made a sudden left turn from the middle lane smashing right into The Chariot.

The whole thing felt like it was happening in slow motion until things started flying everywhere. The Queen made a valiant effort to avoid the crash, but there was not much she could do. I was in the front passenger seat (since I was working remotely from the car). Disentangling myself from cords and cups and papers gave me enough time to chase the inner ogre down and put him back on a leash. I got out of the car to check the damage and ask the other driver if she was okay. Instead of answering that question, she said “I had my turn signal on.”  To which I replied, “That does not mean you can turn left from the middle lane.” “Oh”, she said. I got on the phone with 911 to get things rolling. Fortunately, there were three witnesses who stopped to give their information. All had the same story to tell. The Chariot still runs and drives and does not appear to be leaking any vital fluids. It just has the automotive equivalent of a shiner with a few scrapes. Hopefully, the insurance company won’t try to total it. I’ll be getting an estimate from the body shop for my carrier first thing Tuesday morning. The other driver’s carrier has called but not connected with us yet.

Ouch

Physically, we all have soft tissue aches and pains. M&M and I seem to have faired better than The Queen even though the impact happened on our side of the car. The Queen has taken it a little harder. She will heal though. That’s all that matters.

So, Tuesday evening after the accident, we were on the phone with our realtor about whether or not to make an offer on the miracle house. Our realtor told us that the Sherman house came back on the market as the contract that came in under the wire of our second showing had fallen through. The layout of the Sherman house actually works better for our current situation, and there are some other personal benefits to being in Sherman that are unimportant to our story. So, we told our realtor to make an offer.

Turns out that the owner on the Sherman house doesn’t really want to sell the house for what it’s really worth in its current condition and is convinced that someone will come along and pay him his asking price. That won’t be us.

So, I’ll skip the back and forth between the realtors on the Sherman house which took up all day Wednesday and most of Thursday. Thursday afternoon, I get a call from the realtor that the owner of the Sherman house countered our offer by increasing the price to effectively net the same amount as his asking price on clean contract. Our realtor also mentioned that she received a text from the listing agent for the miracle house. Word was that the owner had rejected the pending offers, was pulling it from the market for three weeks to do same minor repairs but that if we were still interested that we could do a deal.

Huh???

So, you’ve heard people say when one door closes another opens? This door not only opened, but it was taken off the hinges.

Our realtor had given feedback to the listing agent including the story about M&M loving the pink room, etc. Turns out the lady of the house, a woman in her early 70s with a serious health issue, decided she didn’t like the investors who had submitted low ball offers well below asking price (one of whom she called a “jerk”) and was tickled at the idea of a little girl playing up there. So, the listing agent told our agent to give them an offer as close to asking price as possible and they would see what could be done. I immediately told our agent to terminate the contract on the Sherman house, and we drafted up the contract on the Sulphur Springs house.

Friday passed with no word. Apparently, the owner was out of town visiting her children. Saturday evening, we got a call from our realtor that they executed our contract with no changes. We were floored.

But wait….there’s MORE!

Our agent says, “So, would you be interested in the washer, dryer and refrigerator that are there at the house?” I had been planning to ask about that as we do not currently have those appliances in our personal possession. So, we said, “Absolutely.” Then our agent drops the kicker. The owner is giving those appliances to us as her gift to us. These are practically new appliances.

Body…meet floor. Floor…body.

I was speechless for several minutes. The Queen and I could not stop tearing up. Our agent sent us a packet with the history of the house which we did not have prior to making the offer. The house is essentially a 153 year old house that was completely rebuilt from the inside in 1983. I can’t wait to share photos. All because a little girl made an elderly woman smile. 

Miscellaneous, Randomness and Other Stuff

In no particular order, I thought I would open the tap a little bit and relieve some pressure in the blog material accumulator before things get too jumbled up.

In the Frankensteinian "Fire Bad!" category, Number One Follower had an unfortunate incident in his home shop a while back. To add insult to misfortune, it was were the bulk of his firearms and associated accessories were stored. Neither NOF nor his wife were home at the time. Fortunately, a neighbor called NOF and the fire department before things got too out of control. That also triggered calls from NOF to the FD that there was ammunition and such in the shop. I also got a call to come assist with removing items as necessary. The fire department investigator said the fire was accidental. Based on the area of origin, the most likely culprit is faulty/damaged wiring. The good news is that NOF has pretty good insurance and should come out of the deal in pretty good shape overall. 

Formerly a plastic shelving unit full of ammunition. 

Ruger Precision Rifle with heat damaged barrel

The Queen and I decided it was high time for some one on one quality time not too long ago. We love our daughter, M&M dearly and will and have taken her pretty much everywhere with us. So, it was not much of a surprise to either of us that it had been more than 7 years since the two of us had taken  solo getaway. Plans were hatched, and we hoped in The Queen's chariot for a long weekend jaunt down to Corpus Christi. I should make a brief side note here. Anytime The Queen is in the car, her eyes are invariably drawn to animals in distress. This trip was no different. I was in the passenger seat, head down, working (being able to work from literally anywhere there is a half way decent cellular data connection has huge advantages for me) when I hear a gasp from the driver's seat.

I asked what the function was, and The Queen informed me that she saw a cat in the center median of the highway. Said highway being 1-35 in Kyle, TX just south of Austin which is six lanes of NAFTA's main thoroughfare in the US. So, I told The Queen to flip a U-turn at the next exit and go back in search of the feline. The Queen was conflicted for a moment between her concern for the cat and her desire not to ruin our trip. I reminded her that, if we did not make efforts to resolve the mystery of said feline's fate, The Queen would spend the rest of the trip worrying about it.

After a failed first attempt to relocate the fur ball, we were able reacquire the ungrateful fur turd cat on The Queen's pet radar with the second north/south U-turn circuit. Not wanting to spook the cat into running into the highway and also being fairly certain that the center median was not wide enough for the chariot, I had The Queen Park in the outside shoulder. After assessing the chances of making it across and back more or less in one piece, I found a narrow window in traffic through which I could reasonably shamble across three lanes of interstate without getting flattened by a semi or causing a soccer mom to panic stop a mini van.

Then, I began the process of trying to convince Kitty McDeathwish that I was a really nice guy who was not with the government but "here to help.(TM)" After a couple of tentative crouching duck walks and sidling shuffles, I was able to get within sniffing distance of the cat. He/she/it? (we were never on first gender basis with each other) gave me a cursory sniff before allowing me to touch its head briefly before retreating back out of arms length. After several more tense moments of getting back into arm's length and watching traffic (you'd be surprised at how many people can't stay between the lines [I'm looking at you white Ford SUV...you're lucky I didn't slash your tires]), I spotted a window in the traffic that offered a reasonable chance of success, grabbed a double handful of fur, and commenced to hoofing it back across the highway. The cat was pissed off thoroughly unamused and expressed its displeasure by trying to eviscerate my arm. Fortunately,  my wind breaker took most of the  abuse. Once we reached the grassy shoulder, I engaged the catapult and released it in the tall grass of the shoulder fully realizing we weren't done with the rescue yet.

Your Truly, trying to garner the trust of a feral cat and questioning my life choices.

After assuring myself that I was not bleeding to death and retrieving a bottle of water and a wet wipe from the car to wash the cat spit off my arm and out of the puncture wounds, I returned to my efforts to complete the rescue of the bag full of razor blades just in time to receive the assistance of one of Kyle PD's finest. We had to herd the cat (literally) to a spot where we could grab it. I got a grip on it just before it tried to imitate a speed bump in the highway again. This time, the cat got up under the sleeve of my jacket and did it's level best to chew my arm off. I handed the ugly, pointy thing off to the officer who, wisely, was wearing mechanics gloves and a bullet proof vest. He escorted the cat across the service road into the woods on the other side where it was released into the relative safety of the country side.

No good deed goes unpunished.

After thanking the officer and stopping the bleeding (again), we made tracks to the nearest Starbucks for a more thorough clean up with hot water in the restroom. I'll be darned if those puncture wounds didn't bleed most of the rest of the day. They were pretty tender for the next several days too. As of this writing a couple of weeks post rescue, I still have one puncture that is still scabbed over and serving as a reminder to wear armor and bring tazers when dealing with stray cats.

M&M continues to grow like a weed. She just finished the second grade, she got a gold medal at her piano theory test, auditioned for the national piano guild and is generally continuing to be her amazing self.

Tinkle and Taco keeping a watchful eye on the pups. 

The puppies are also growing like weeds. They are inseparable. Literally. Take one away, and they both whine and cry like they've been beaten. This, of course, creates cute and humorous moments.

Dawww...the cute version of spooning

The funny version of  spooning

Oma's Alzheimer's continues its inevitable march down the drain. While generally happy when she is riding in the car or watching TV with Opa, she has developed a stubborn and belligerent streak when asked/told to do something she does not want to do...which is pretty much anything other than ride in a car or watch TV. She has also rediscovered cursing; and, while not ideal, we are thankful she latched on to "Sh*t!" instead of the universal adjective.

Lastly, we were sad to learn this past week of the passing of a long term church acquaintance of ours. I have known/been acquainted with this family for over 20 years now, and my wife has known them even longer. The family is no one special in terms of wealth or fame. They are just good people. When The Queen was going through her mystery illness and I was stuck commuting between Dallas and Houston because of work, I would call the husband semi-regularly just to have someone to talk to on the long drive. They had six kids who are all grown now.  We found out a while back that the wife had been diagnosed with cancer; and, more recently, we found out that she was bedridden and on hospice care. We took a "day off" from work to drive out to their place to visit (they live a couple hours east of us), catch up and generally give encouragement in whatever way we could.

During our visit, the wife said something that really struck me as profound. She was talking about how her bedridden state has left her totally at the mercy of others for her care most of which falls to her husband. The thing that struck me was when she said this was not what she had in mind when they said their marriage vows. She said this was not what she wanted for her husband to have to care for her and clean her and watch her in that state.

That got me to thinking. Most people say their marriage vows without ever really thinking about what they are promising or giving even a moment's thought about what the future may hold. I know I didn't really comprehend it at the time either. Everyone focuses on the "to have and to hold" and forgets about the "in sickness and in health" or "for richer or for poorer" parts of the vows. She told us that she had to learn the hard way what those vows really meant. The Queen and I understood what she meant.

She passed away peacefully surrounded by her family. I know her husband would trade anything to have her back with him and healthy, but they fulfilled their marriage vows in every sense of the word. That's increasingly rare these days. I count myself blessed to have my Queen by my side as we continue fulfilling our vows.

Stop Hitting Yourself

Dear Texas Republican Party Members (and you folks at the National Party HQ need to listen up too),

I'll make this simple: STOP HITTING YOURSELF! Seriously. Put down the shovel, go take a bottle of Tylenol and reread the Bible and the Constitution when you wake up.

Sincerely,

Daddy Hawk

I'll be the first to state that, as a conservative Christian, I believe the Bible is very clear on the subject of homosexuality. The Bible is also very clear about not judging others, accepting people as they are (while loving them and encouraging them to sin no more) and looking after your own problems before you try to solve everyone else's. I'll also be the first to admit that I do not understand the "cause" of homosexuality anymore than I do particle physics, and I'm pretty sure no one living has a decent grasp on that subject either. We can debate genetics and nature versus nurture until the end of time; but, if you listen closely, you can just make out the sound of God laughing at us for thinking we have a clue.

So, it strikes me that these well intentioned folks are suffering from a special form of stupid to think that 1)homosexuality can be "fixed" through therapy, 2) that it's any of the government's business in the first place, and 3) there ought to be a law to do something about it.

Do you want to take a stand on moral issues? Fine be me. Live your life according to those morals. Be the example you want others to follow. Talk to people about why you do what you do when offered the opportunity. Talk to them out of love and be respectful of that teachable moment.

Do you want to make a difference in state and national level politics? Fine by me. Stick to things that are defined by the Constitution as being the government's business. Let's talk fiscal policy. Let's talk foreign policy. Let's talk about securing the borders. Let's talk about taxes. Let's talk about how entitlements are bankrupting the county. Let's talk about the ideas you have to make Texas and America stronger (or strong again depending on your point of view).

Let's stay out of people's bedrooms. Let's stay out of people's minds. This isn't Orwell's 1984. There should be no political correctness. There should be no hate crimes or thought police. You don't fix racism by inciting riots and perpetuating the "us vs. them" mentality. You change people's hearts and minds by being the best example you can be.

[dropping mike and stepping off soap box]

Healing In Progress

As you might imagine, I had a less than restful night last night. I was emotionally and physically wiped out by the time things finally wound down here at around midnight. The poor Queen was in at least as sorry shape as I emotionally. The news hit her especially hard, and poor M&M was getting concerned too since there was a lot of heavy emotion floating around the cause of which she could not fathom. She and I wound up sacked out on a recliner together for mutual comfort until retiring to the bedroom to join The Queen in bed at some unknown hour. M&M was sound asleep when I got up, but she refused to let go. So, I simply took my little clingy monkey with me.

I woke up this morning at 7:30 AM whether I liked it or not (I didn't), and there was no going back to bed. Even if I could have gotten to back sleep, I had a headache and a powerful need to do SOMETHING. So, I fired up the computer and began by responding to some of the emails and Facebook messages that I received. I started updating my resume and got it circulated to several people for a variety of reasons (kymber, I look forward to your thoughts).

I thought I would take a moment to share some of my thoughts on the whole situation as well as some of the blessings I've been counting.

First, despite the passage of 24 hours+ since the axe fell, I still have no better insight into why this happened. I doubt I ever will. I'm still convinced that the reason I was given was not the "real" reason; but, since Texas is a right to work state, they don't have to give me a reason.  I have been in contact with some of my business associates that I've worked closely with over the last two and a half years. Universally, they were supportive and as shocked as I was. No one thus far has had a negative thing to say about my performance or skills which is a relief frankly. The Queen and I have our suspicions as to the reason why, but suspicions is all they are and will forever remain so. I have no interest in confirming those suspicions as it would serve no purpose beyond a small bit of closure. They have chosen to proceed without me, and I have to be content that they thought that was the best course of action for them.

I did get a little bit of appreciation from them today. I realized today that I had an Apple TV that had been bought by the company for use in presentations still in my possession at home. I emailed my former boss and the HR Director to ask them what they wanted me to do with. I was advised to keep it with a note of appreciation for my honesty. Every little bit helps I guess.

One very big blessing in all this is that we do not have a mortgage hanging over our heads like the sword of Damocles. The inlaws and my family have been very supportive. We have a roof over our heads as long as we need it. That is a relief beyond measure; and, I believe, a blessing from God that the house sold before this happened.

I kinda wish He had told me to wait on buying the new car though.

I have been blessed to receive offers of help from many of you as well as others. It's very reassuring to have people willing to go to bat for you when you've been kicked this hard. Having a professional contact you respect tell you that you're well liked and know what you're doing is very comforting when you've been cast aside.

I no longer feel the need to puke, and I haven't cried since this morning. So, that's progress.

The Queen, M&M and I spent some time this afternoon at the lake enjoying the water and sun together. That was very nice. I was even able to forget my situation for a short time. M&M and I had great fun splashing in the water. She can't swim yet, but she loves to be in the water and getting confident in allowing her head to go underwater.

I've been searching through job postings, and I've seen some that interest me and a couple that look like they were written for me. I will be applying for them over the next several days. Hopefully, something will come of that. In the meantime, I'm working my contacts and networking as much as I can.

Yesterday hurt pretty bad.  Before I gave up the company phone, I sent The Queen a text to let her know what was going on as we were supposed to meet for dinner near the airport for a quick meal before I had to fly out on business. As I was cleaning out my desk under the watchful eye of the HR director, she kept calling me on my office phone trying to get a hold of me. I told HR that I was answering a call from my wife and had to tell The Queen a couple of times that I couldn't talk before finally having to hang up. It was all I could do to keep from completely falling apart on the phone, as I boxed up my accumulated stuff and on my way out the door. Even at that, I know I left several items behind for them to ship to me. It was a long two hour drive home. It was one of the hardest things I've ever done to pull into the driveway and face my wife who loves me and relies on me to provide for her and our daughter. I wanted to be anywhere else. Seeing the heartbreak on her face when I finally made it home, not directed at me but at the situation, and hearing the pain in her voice cut deep. I will be forever grateful to her for the love and support she gave me through her own hurt.

I wish I could report that I'm over it, that I'm all smiles and laughter. That would be complete and utter fertilizer. The healing has begun, but it is far from over.

Thanks again to all of you who read here and especially those who took the time to comment or email. Your friendship is very much appreciated.

M&M's Story

As I sit here on a plane to Kansas City in mid-October of 2012 starting to write this**, it is not quite yet time to tell this story. This will be more than a bit emotional for me, and I want to take the time necessary to make sure this is the best it can be. Some parts of this story have already been told, at least partially, in previous posts. Other parts of this story are being told here for the first time.

I will warn you now that this is a long story (it’s well north of 7000 words and stretching into 12 pages single spaced in Word as of January 14TH…just so you have a little perspective). You might shed a tear or two. I did living it and writing it. Go get yourself a beverage, a box a tissues and take a potty break. This will be here waiting for you when you get back. Remember, you’ve been warned.

The fact that you are reading this now means that enough time and events have passed that I am free to finally and formally introduce you to my daughter and recently crowned Princess of the Realm, Miss M&M, duchess of the fair and eternal kingdom of Texas, defender of The Queen and Castle Erickson in training, current drain on and future inheritor of the royal exchequer, worrier of cats and sole heir apparent.

So, with the introductions out of the way, let me tell you the full story of how M&M came to be our daughter.

First, I need to be upfront and say that this is very much a spiritual story for me and nothing short of miraculous in my opinion. Your opinion may vary. While I am by no means the most spiritual, righteous or religious person on the planet, I do consider myself to be a Christian and a person of faith. To borrow from the apostle Paul on the subject, "Now faith is the substance of things hoped for, the evidence of things not seen." (Hebrews 11:1 NKJV).

The Queen and I had been hoping for children for a long time. We waited a couple of years after we married before starting to try for kids of our own. When The Queen lost her job in mid-2005, it seemed like that was God's way of telling us it was time to stop messing around and get serious about starting a family. We tried unsuccessfully for about 18 months before The Queen fell ill with what we ultimately referred to as the mystery illness. In the space of a few months, she went from being a strong, vibrant and athletic woman with boundless energy to a physically weak, bed ridden, subject to major seizures daily and was unable to fully care for herself.

Needless to say, we were scared, crushed, frustrated, sad and angry among other emotions. Our attempts to have children came to an immediate halt.

It took the better part of four years, endless doctor visits (most of which were not covered by insurance due to being "alternative") and enough money to buy a small house (I wish that was an exaggeration) to figure out what was wrong. We came to know and loathe the medical community intimately. There are only so many times you can be told that it’s all in your head before you get a little discouraged. Just because a doctor can’t look passed his training to find the real answer doesn’t mean there isn’t something wrong. We have enough reliable documentation to prove that there really was something going on with her and it wasn’t just in her head that I can confidently say never assume that what doctor says is the gospel. They just might not be thinking hard enough or have enough experience to figure it out.

In 2010, we finally started to see improvement after resorting to some fairly unconventional treatment methods. Traditional doctors would scoff at some of the treatment methods we used as pseudo-science if they were being polite and outright quackery and fraud if they weren’t. My response to them is too rude to print. The bottom line is that it worked for The Queen, and that’s all that matters to me. After she regained her strength enough to become active again, we became perhaps overly cautious as we were both in our 40s by this time. With The Queen's recovery still fresh and fragile, we made the difficult decision not to resume efforts to get pregnant.

We talked about adoption. And talked. And talked some more. The cost to go straight, infant adoption is, frankly, insane. The lowest figure I saw was $18,000 on a sliding scale based on income. Our income at the time made us eligible to pay the bargain basement price of $25,000 if we wanted the privilege of waiting for some unknown woman to select us as the future parents of her unborn child. For international adoption, it’s even higher. I’ve seen cost estimates of as high as $56,000 for international adoption with no guarantees, and we’ve heard more than one story of overseas adoption scams.

It was a moot point though. We flat out didn't have the money to do it. Finally, in early 2011, The Queen started talking to foster care agencies about the possibilities of adopting children out of the state foster care system. We finally found an agency that would work with us on getting the required foster parent training completed despite our religious beliefs (most foster training is done on Saturdays which is a problem for Sabbath keepers such as The Queen and I).

The adoption coordinator at the agency we ultimately chose to deal with introduced us to the concept of foster to adopt. If you are interested in adopting younger children from the foster care system, foster to adopt is the only way to go. Most of the children available for immediate adoption in the foster care system are older children, children with behavioral issues or children with severe medical conditions. This is a function of the human nature as well as the nature of the system. In most cases, children are in the foster system for at least a year before they are available for adoption. So, that cute little baby you have your heart set on adopting will be a toddler before the child becomes available and you even have a shot at legally adopting them. Add to that the requirement that the child has to be in your home for a minimum of six months before you can consummate the adoption, and suddenly that baby is a minimum of eighteen months old before you have a chance to hear momma or dadda for the first time. Additionally, at least with our agency, families willing to foster to adopt get preferential treatment regarding placement of newborns and infants over families only strictly in the system to adopt.

So, by October 2011, we were fully trained, newly minted and officially licensed foster parents with the state of Texas. We had been poked and prodded, background checked, inspected, quizzed, interviewed and pronounced competent to handle kids. They obviously didn’t know me very well. I think they had pity on The Queen. We, in turn, had given the agency general guidelines of what we felt capable of dealing with and what we were looking for. It kind of feels like you are ordering a kid from a catalog or a fast food menu. “Between the ages of 0 and 7, no major medical/behavioral/sexual abuse issues, no drug babies or fetal alcohol syndrome, etc., yada, yada, blah, blah, blah.” It forces you to confront your inner self, your biases, your prejudices (are you willing to parent children of other “races”) and your beliefs in a whole new way. It's crass, demeaning and it was the only option available to us if we wanted a family.

Despite that, we were excited and eager to start the process.

In November, we received our first call for a placement which turned out to be a false alarm. It was for a little mixed race girl who was part of a larger sibling group which the agency was having trouble placing together. We were excited at first when we got the call only to be disappointed later in the day when we were called back to be told that they were finally able to place the siblings together as a group. Don’t get me wrong, we were relieved that the kids could be together as a sibling group. However, that experience and the associated emotions led to what can only be described as a moment of unsullied optimism following which I wrote the open letter to the child God had chosen for us. It turned out that I wrote that letter just three days before M&M was born.

The evidence of things not seen indeed.

From what we read in the medical records and what we were told later by the male bio donor [“MBD”] (now that their parental rights have been terminated, they are officially and legally no longer M&M’s parents and are merely her genetic donors) at one of the official meetings where he actually showed up, M&M was almost a stillborn. M&M’s female bio donor (“FBD”) had not had good results in her previous pregnancies with only one live birth (M&M's full brother) out of four other pregnancies. FBD was put on bed rest in the hospital about three weeks before the birth due to premature bleeding. According to MBD, FBD’s OBGYN doctor was supposed to come by on a Thursday to check on the status of FBD and M&M. For whatever reason (God's intervention I believe), the doctor decided to come on Tuesday.

What the doctor discovered still gives me chills to think about. For whatever reason, FBD's water had broken unnoticed and little M&M was in distress. The doctor performed an immediate caesarean, and she was born five and a half weeks early at a tiny, tiny four pounds nine ounces. M&M’s APGAR score was initially a 3 and increased to an 8 a little bit later. For those not familiar with the APGAR scoring system, 0 is basically a stillborn child. A 10 is a happy, healthy baby with no observable issues. For M&M to get a 3 initially means that she scored a zero on at least two of the five categories rated (skin color, pulse rate, reflex, muscle tone and breathing). Had the doctor waited two more days to come check and no one else at the hospital had noticed the problem, M&M would have died.

One minor side benefit of the method of her birth, M&M was spared from possible direct exposure to some of FBD's more interesting medical conditions. We will leave it at that.

The saga with CPS begins right after the birth. M&M's meconium (baby's first stool consisting of stuff ingested while in the womb via the umbilical cord) was tested and found positive for marijuana (an apparent result of FBD's self-medication). Fortunately, M&M suffered no withdrawal symptoms and had no need for detox as a result of her exposure to recreational pharmaceuticals in the womb. Because of that and the bio donors’ incessant arguing with each other and the hospital staff in the NICU (MBD had the nerve to throw a new car seat at FBD…imagine that), CPS was brought in by the hospital staff.

CPS was faced with the daunting task of deciding whether the parents would be allowed to take M&M home from the hospital. During this time period, the bio donors were making lots of competing allegations against each other. She claimed he was abusive, that he had charges pending against him for sexual misconduct with a minor (which was apparently true though the charges were dropped later), and that she was in fear for her life and that of her baby. He claimed she was verbally abusive, crazy and an unfit mother. CPS ultimately offered to let FBD take M&M to a Safe Haven shelter if she would leave MBD. FBD agreed and left the hospital with M&M three weeks after she was born.

Three days later, FBD called CPS and asked them to come take M&M so she could be with MBD. Let that sink in for a moment. She was free and clear with her baby. CPS was out of her hair. She chose to give up her baby to be with someone she says she was afraid of.

Crazy is as crazy does.

The next event in the series of what I believe are miracles leading to M&M's arrival in our lives involves the family that adopted M&M's full brother. The bio donors managed to run afoul of CPS in Utah following big brother’s birth as well (quell surprise). Apparently, there were drugs (No! You don’t say.) and a suicide attempt involved there. Boy brother was ultimately adopted out of the foster care system to a family in Utah.

One side issue with that is that when a family adopts from the foster care system, they get called when any siblings come into the system to see if the adoptive family is interested in the new child regardless of whether or not the family is still in the foster care system. The Utah family that adopted the older brother declined to take M&M.

The story of boy brother's adoption is a sore spot within the bio donor family. MBD indicated that they had felt pressured into relinquishing their rights and that they didn't know any better. That was a bald faced lie, as we have the records of the Utah case since it is part of M&M’s file. Their rights were terminated in Utah for the same garbage they tried to pull with M&M, and big brother was adopted out to his foster family in 2010. MBD’s cousin, who is the foster mother in another state that has been discussed briefly in other posts, made a last minute attempt to get boy brother. She indicated that the Utah caseworker was openly hostile to her, refusing to take her calls, etc. The Utah file states that she called after a certain deadline. It appears from the records that Utah spent a lot of time looking at getting FBD’s mother approved as a family placement. That didn’t happen for reasons we will discuss shortly. I do believe that this incident with boy brother is at least part of the reason that the bio donors are fighting the system in M&M's case. They feel that they were well and truly screwed the first time and are bound and determined to fight to tooth and nail against the system. The fact that they were doing drugs, trying to kill themselves, not working their services plan, leaving the state and generally abandoning their child doesn’t appear to have caused them to rethink their lifestyle or their own character.

Notice I said against the system and not FOR their daughter. Their actions speak louder than any words ever could. This fight they've been waging has nothing to do with M&M and everything to do with beating the system. This is ironic when you think about it. They could have beaten the system by simply not calling CPS back to come take M&M in the first place. They could have beaten the system again by simply completing the services plan CPS arranged for them.

To quote Ron White, you can't fix stupid.

Anyway, the Utah family declining a beautiful baby girl opened the door for a couple of newly minted foster parents in Texas to take custody of a three and a half week old girl weighing in at just 6 pounds and 9 ounces. I've written about M&M's arrival in other places. Needless to say, the excitement was tremendous. I don't think I've been more excited about anything in my life. Less than an hour after she arrived in our house, she was asleep on my chest and I was hopelessly and forever bonded to her.

What we were told initially about the situation with M&M's bio donors, that they were transients who were leaving the state making M&M a strong candidate for expedited adoption, quickly turned out to be inaccurate. Thus began the saga of the emotional roller coaster we have been on worrying whether we were going to be able to keep M&M. I don't think it is possible to put into words how it feels when you are given a perfect, beautiful little girl and are told you will be able to adopt her only to turn around and be told that you might not get to adopt after all.

Aside from the bio donors fighting the system, we also had to deal with other people trying to interfere with our calm. One incident in particular stands out.

As a foster parent, we are required to take any children placed with us for a medical checkup within 30 days of their placement in our home as well as any follow up treatment as necessary. It has to be with a medical doctor (as opposed to an alternative medicine practitioner) who accepts Medicaid as that is how the state pays for the medical care of foster children. M&M already had a couple of doctors following her case given her premature birth and concerns and complications arising from that. We chose to continue using those doctors since they were already familiar with her condition.

When it came time for M&M's initial round of vaccinations in early March (I think...my memory is a little fuzzy at this point...I know I was in a work related seminar and can track down the exact date, but it's not that important), we asked what we thought were intelligent questions about the safety of the vaccines and whether they could be spaced out instead of being given all at once in light of M&M's fragile condition at the time. Being the insurance guy, my concern aside from not making a healthy but fragile baby unhealthy by giving her little system massive doses of stuff to deal with all at once was how to figure out which vaccine was the culprit if something went wrong. The doctor, not the regular one we saw in this clinic and one who had no children of her own, refused to concede that there were any safety concerns over vaccinations and was generally and rudely dismissive of our concerns.

Then, the doctor called CPS over the vaccination argument claiming that we were withholding medical treatment from M&M. Can you say god complex? And people wonder why I avoid doctors like the plague.

Fortunately for us, we already had a gold star rating with the foster care agency and CPS by that point. They called us to find out what the fuss was all about. We explained the situation and our concerns, and the collective reaction from the powers that be was something along the lines of "Okay. We just had to call and check to make sure 'cause it didn't sound like something y'all would do."

In other news, that doctor left the clinic a short time later and word from the staff is that they were only too glad to see the door hit her on the butt on the way out. None of the other doctors or nurses there had any problem with spreading the vaccinations out.

Enter the cousin.

Around about late March / early April, we received word from the CPS case worker that MBD had a cousin in another state (the same one who made the last minute attempt to get big brother) who was interested in taking M&M. We were told that the cousin was a foster parent, and that she had been trying to get M&M since late December. This, of course, came as quite a shock to The Queen and me. The caseworker also said that the cousin was going to come to Texas over Spring Break to visit M&M.

The caseworker put us in touch with each other to arrange a time and place to visit. It was a little awkward to say the least. The day the cousin was going to be in town was a day I had to be out of town for business. So, unfortunately, I did not get to meet her then. The Queen handled the visit with her usual tact and wisdom, and all went reasonably well.

We continued to have some phone and text contact with the cousin after the visit. At one point, she told us she was unsure whether she really wanted to take M&M since she was already bonded to us. On the other hand, she felt that M&M should be with family. For our part, we assured her that we wanted M&M to know her birth family (at the least the parts of it that weren't crazy) and would even be willing to take trips out west to where they lived so they could see her as she grew up.

Things were quiet for a time until the April permanency conference at the CPS office. I'm pretty sure I wrote about that at the time, but I can't recall as I sit here typing this in a tunnel with no Internet connection. At any rate, the cousin attended the conference by phone and was adamant that she wanted to take M&M, that she had been waiting since December and why hadn't the case worker sent the home study paperwork to her state?

Immediately following the conference, the phone calls started. I called the ad litem to find out what her position would be under the circumstances. She was, understandably, non-committal. The Queen received a call from our caseworker wanting to know if we were going to fight for M&M. I still remember that call vividly. We were in the car heading north on Beach Street in east Fort Worth before having to turn around and go back to get The Queen's purse that had been forgotten at the CPS office. I remember telling the caseworker that we did not want a fight. I told her bluntly but politely that we only wanted to be the last ones standing at the end holding the baby.

I had no idea at the time how true that statement would turn out to be, but it seems to me that God heard the sincerity in our voice and the love in our hearts and blessed us for wanting to peacefully wait out the process.

That's not to say we didn't consider fighting if we felt we had to.

I need to take a moment to give a little information about the legal climate we find ourselves in here. Generally speaking, CPS in Texas gives birth families every opportunity to get their act together to get their kids back. If the parents are not viable either because they invented a brand new form of stupid or they just can't figure out how to make the right choices, CPS looks real hard for a viable family member and sometimes there idea of viable is suspect. Foster parents wanting to adopt are at the bottom of the list in order of preference. A foster parent can, according to the state statute regarding such things, file an intervention into an existing suit to terminate parental rights or initiate such a suit after the foster parent has had custody of the child for one year.

Fortunately for us, we are blessed to have M&M's case pending in the one county in Texas which has a court of appeals case which grants foster parents the right to intervene in an existing suit when they have had "substantial past contact" with the foster child. This is important because a court of appeals case is mandatory precedent for the county where the case originates meaning the courts in that county HAVE to follow the ruling in that case. Further, we are very fortunate to have the case involving M&M's rights pending before a judge who looks favorably upon the interests of foster parents when they have had "substantial past contact" with the child which court of appeals case did not define but which the court we are in has practically applied as anything more than six months.

So, with the cousin coming out of the woodwork, we found ourselves in the office of a family law attorney on Memorial Day Monday (it was supposed to be the Thursday before, but there was a scheduling mix up) to have an initial consultation regarding intervening in the case. The short of it is that the attorney went through the above analysis with us and indicated he thought our chances of winning were better than 50%. We left the meeting more or less decided we were going to retain him but wanted to go home, discuss the situation as a family and sleep on it before making a final decision. We were a nervous wreck that night because we had also gotten a call from the CPS caseworker wanting to come over on the day before we would have had M&M for six months, and we feared her being taking away from us before we had a chance to intervene. That fear was unfounded, but not for the reason we thought.

The Tuesday after Memorial Day dawned like any other day. I went to work. The Queen took care of the kiddos. I came home from work and started cooking dinner. Then, the phones started ringing off the hook. The cousin called The Queen's phone several times before trying my phone before finally sending a text saying she needed to talk to us right away. The Queen had her hands full with the kids, and I had my hands full with the cooking. So, it took us a while before we had a moment to answer the phone.

What happened next still makes me tear up thinking about it.

The cousin asked to talk to both of us at the same time. So, we put the kids in secure places, retreated to the office, closed the door and put her on speakerphone. The cousin tearfully told us of how she had been struggling with the decision regarding whether or not to take M&M and how she had been praying about the situation. She told us she felt she would be able give her a good home, but she also felt strongly that having a strong father figure was also important. She told of how she had been driving along when she suddenly felt that she knew what she needed to do. She pulled over and called us immediately to tell us that she had decided to back out of the running so to speak. She told us that she knew that M&M was bonded to us and that it was clear that we loved her very much. She told us she was going to have her home study denied. Her only condition was that the bio donors never know that she voluntarily withdrew.

Another little minor aside here. The CPS caseworker in the state where the cousin lives is a friend of hers. The home study was delayed on that end after that state finally got the paperwork from Texas as the cousin's case worker had been in a serious car accident, and it was unknown when she would be back to work.

We kept our word and didn't say anything about the cousin backing out voluntarily. Unfortunately, the ad litem screwed everything up at a court status hearing in June. It was the one hearing where both bio donors were present, and the ad litem spilled the beans in front of God and everyone. The bio donors looked like they had been hit upside the head with a two by four. They were clearly surprised and immediately began staring daggers at The Queen and I. Based on what happened later, it's pretty clear they thought we were behind the cousin backing out.

Shortly after the June hearing, we received word from the CPS caseworker that FBD’s mom had come forward claiming she had wanted the baby since the very beginning. Bear in mind that this woman lives in an upper Northwestern state and has never seen M&M much less been in contact with CPS about her until after the June hearing. The Queen and I were concerned about this development but much less so than we had been with the cousin's situation. It was clear to us by this point that the bio donors were grasping at any straw they could to try and manipulate the system. More on grandma in a moment.

Another hearing was held in late August. This time, it was for a motion to set court ordered services. The CPS caseworker had gotten fed up with the parents’ lack of progress on their "voluntary" services plan by this point and had had ample opportunity to get to know them for who they REALLY are. By requesting the court order the parents to complete a services plan, CPS was setting the stage for termination proceedings. In Texas (and most states I am sure), legal grounds are necessary to terminate a parent's rights to their child. I thought they had plenty of grounds; but, apparently, the district attorney’s office wanted something more solid on which to proceed.

So, knowing that the parents' compliance rate was next to non-existent, CPS had the court order the services plan as failure to comply with court ordered services is grounds for termination of rights.

There were a couple of other interesting tidbits that occurred at that hearing or just before it. First, I had to be out of town that day traveling on business. I had called our CPS caseworker to find out what to expect as an outcome from the hearing. During the call, she asked me if I had consulted with an attorney. The Queen and I had been very quiet on that subject with anyone at CPS as we did not want to risk them taking M&M away from us just for seeking legal counsel. Faced with a direct question, I answered truthfully that we had consulted an attorney but had not retained one yet. The caseworker surprised me then by telling me that she could not advise me what to do but asked if I was aware that we had rights as foster parents. I let her know that, yes, we were aware of our rights; but, again, we did not want to fight and preferred to wait out the process and be the last ones still standing at the end.

That little exchange bordered on the surreal as we had been through eight or nine months of the case worker constantly reminding us that they had to try and find a family member placement, not to get our hopes up, “now, y’all know y’all might not be able to keep her…”, etc. ad nauseaum. It was like, “Okay. Who the heck are you, and what did you do with our case worker?”

Then, just after the hearing which was held in the judge’s chambers as opposed to all the other hearings which took place in the court room, MBD’s attorney confronted The Queen in a very rude manner. In hindsight, we think she was trying to provoke a reaction. She basically walked up to The Queen and started the conversation by asking The Queen if she was crazy. The Queen’s response was a puzzled “What are you talking about?”. MBD’s attorney asked if The Queen had called MBD’s cousin and begged her to allow us to keep her and saying all sorts of stuff about the kind of life we could provide for her. None of which ever happened. We figure MBD fed his attorney a load of garbage to try and get us discredited somehow. When the attorney figured out that The Queen was not going to fly off the handle in a rage (as her client is known to do from time to time), she toned down the attitude a few notches and began to talk in a civilized manner with The Queen and our agency adoption coordinator. MBD’s attorney claimed that FBD was the problem in all this, and she felt that MBD would have a better shot at being found viable if he were on his own without FBD’s craziness keeping things stirred up.

The Queen and I had a good chuckle about that one after it was all over. Especially the bit about MBD being a viable parent in the absence of FBD. Knowing what we know now, neither of them is fit to parent children and probably never will be.

Shortly after the August hearing on the motion to court order services, FBD called CPS saying she was leaving MBD and that she wanted M&M back. As if they would believe her at this point after she had called them to come get her baby so she could go back to him back in December. Our CPS case worker confided in us that she flatly told FBD she was not getting M&M back, and there was nothing she could do about it. I thought that was a tad harsh. Okay, not really. I wish I could hear a recording of the call, but I can almost imagine exactly how it went knowing the case worker’s usual tact and FBD’s level of insanity.

Sometime in the days following the August hearing, the donors left the state and returned to Utah where they have family. I’m still trying to figure out how they scrounged up the money it would have taken to get from here to there. Otherwise, that news came as a tremendous relief to The Queen and I. The Queen was especially overjoyed as it meant she no longer had to take M&M to her weekly visits with the donors. In a way, it’s sad. They turned their back on their daughter and just walked away. Reviewing the case file records again, that is exactly the same thing they did with big brother two or three years ago. There seems to be a pattern of behavior there.

Finally, in late November, the trial on donors’ parental rights took place. The Queen, Mimi, our agency adoption coordinator were there early. The Queen and I dreaded the possibility of the donors showing up in person. I felt it was unlikely given the money necessary to make that happen for just one of them much less the both of them. We were relieved when the attorneys for the donors announced they were still out of state. MBD’s attorney did make a half hearted motion for continuance claiming he was out of state looking for work. The judge asked several pointed questions of CPS and the prosecutor regarding when the donors were given notice of the trial. The judge didn’t take long to deny the motion for continuance when it became clear that the donors had had ample notice of the trial date and made no effort to come to the trial.

After those preliminaries were disposed of, the prosecutor presented the case on behalf of the state and CPS. The main witnesses were the case worker and the investigator who was originally involved in the case. The attorneys for the donors called no witnesses on behalf of their clients. They made a total of three objections when testimony got into hearsay territory all of which were sustained and none of which had any impact of the ultimate outcome of the case. The attorney for MBD did not ask any questions of the witnesses. The attorney for the FBD only asked a couple of questions of the CPS case worker about access to bus passes.

After about 50 minutes or so of testimony, the prosecution rested as did the attorneys for the donors. The judge considered the matter for a few minutes and then granted the state’s request to terminate the rights of the donors. The judge did ask the prosecutor, the CPS case worker, the ad litem and the attorneys for the donors for their recommendations regarding M&M’s future, and all of them recommended that The Queen and I be allowed to adopt M&M.

That was a special moment. It should also give you a small clue as to what the donors’ attorneys thought of their clients. I honestly don’t remember much of anything that was said after that. I was too busy being a sobbing, ecstatic, relieved, gooey mess.

The judge ordered the CPS case worker to have the file transferred to the adoption unit at CPS by the end of the day. The Queen spent some time on the phone and via text with the case worker as she frantically got the paper work in order.

We talked about the possibility of an appeal. I wasn’t too concerned. The judge ran a fair trial with little to no appealable error. All of the donors’ attorneys’ objections were sustained. So, there was no error as to the donors there. The motion for continuance was denied; however, that was well within the judge’s discretion. A good attorney could draft an appellate argument on that point; however, a good attorney would also counsel their client that such an appeal would have a snowball’s chance in Hell of every succeeding. That leaves an appeal based on incompetent counsel or representation.

The attorneys for the donors were appointed by the state as they did not have the monetary means to retain counsel of their own. FBD’s attorney earned her bar card in 2009 and hung a shingle out as a solo practitioner. Generally, this means that she did not score high enough or network well enough in law school to attract the attention of an existing firm. MBD’s attorney was a similar situation; however, she had been licensed a year longer. I’ve been involved in civil litigation for over 17 years now, and I’ve seen great attorneys, horrible attorneys and everything in between. I don’t think the attorneys did a particularly bad job, but they certainly did not go out of their way to put on a vigorous defense for their clients. It comes down to two things: 1) you get what you pay for, and 2) you can’t make a silk purse out of a sow’s ear. Simple as that.

Another wrinkle in the appellate possibility prognosticator machine is the fact that the donors were no longer living in the state of Texas. There was some speculation after the trial that the donors’ residency status might eliminate their continued eligibility for state appointed counsel. In other words, they would have to shell out some cash to hire a lawyer to file an appeal on their behalf. Finding such a lawyer would be a challenge in and of itself. Good attorneys review the case facts (and the trial transcript in a case like this) and actually counsel their prospective clients regarding their chances of success on appeal. A great attorney would turn this case down stone cold, dead on arrival, and tell the donors to get on with their lives. A good attorney would advise the donors tell them straight up their chances sucked worse than a vacuum cleaner missing a motor but leave it up to them whether they wanted to pursue the matter further and throw good money down the drain. A good attorney would also insist on cash up front probably in the neighborhood of $3500 to $5000 depending on how experienced they are and how enthused they were about the case and their clients.

Moving right along, The Queen and I had a visit with CPS adoption unit case worker in early January. The Queen had had a visit with him in December, but I was unable to attend due to work commitments. It was a good visit. Our new case worker has been in the business for over 20 years. He knows his stuff. Somewhere during the visit, The Queen mentioned that we wished we did not have to wait out the full 90 day appeal period. The case worker looked at us and told us that the appeal period for the parents is only 45 days. The other 45 days is for CPS to locate and consider any other potentially viable family members for placement if the search has not already been exhausted.

The Queen and I did the proverbial double take, slack jawed “WHAT???!!!??!?!?!?”.

The case worker went on to say that the judge in our case usually releases CPS to proceed with adoption proceedings after the first 45 days are over with. The 45 day appellate period expired two days after our visit with the case worker. We discussed the best case scenario, and he advised that there were only a couple of steps left before we would be able to adopt M&M. First, we had to review M&M’s case file which included all the medical records, investigation records, legal records, etc. That file is two, three or four inch binders crammed full of paper. The second requirement we had to complete before consummating the adoption is to participate in an adoptive placement staffing meeting at CPS’ offices. The case worker did us a huge favor by going ahead and scheduling the adoptive placement staffing meeting for the week of January 14TH as he was going to be leaving the country for a month the following week.

As soon as the case worker left the house to get to his next appointment, The Queen and I hugged each with great, big, silly grins on our faces. The Queen broke out into a happy dance. I was too busy tearing up to do much more than continuing grinning like an idiot. We scooped up M&M and smothered her with hugs and kisses until she pushed us away so she could breathe. Then it was off to meet Mimi, who had graciously taken a little time off work to babysit Mini Me and The Banshee at the mall while we had our meeting, for lunch.

Following the visit with CPS, I went ahead and retained a family law attorney recommended by our foster/adoption agency to get started on the adoption paperwork.

The adoptive placement staffing meeting took place on Thursday, January 18 at CPS’ offices in a suburb of Fort Worth. The adoptive placement staffing meeting was the last step in the process before the petition for adoption could be filed and an adoption consummation hearing could be requested. The Queen and I arrived at CPS’ offices with M&M in tow about 30 minutes early. This gave us time to get her a fresh diaper and her mid-morning meal.

The meeting started right around 10:30 AM with a brief discussion with the CPS adoption unit case worker and his supervisor. The purpose of that discuss was to ask if we had received the case file (we had), whether we had had a chance to review it (yep, did that), and whether we had any questions (just one…how quickly can we get the adoption hearing set?). For our part, I advised CPS that no one knows M&M better than we do, and The Queen and I both stated emphatically that we want to adopt M&M as soon as possible. CPS confirmed that they would not be seeking or considering any other family member placement requests.

In other words, nothing else was going to stand in the way of us adopting M&M. Except, possibly, the end of the world. But, let’s not dwell on that.

After that brief discussion was complete, we had to go sign a mercifully small packet of forms…in triplicate…the main purpose of which was to officially change our status from M&M’s foster parents to her adoptive parents.

Of note, one of those forms we signed contained M&M’s new full name. It was the first time either The Queen or I had seen it on anything official. It was a very special moment for me. It really brought home the reality that this little girl really will be my daughter forever. The Queen later told me she felt the same way. She said she almost didn’t notice it at first since she was busy trying to keep M&M, who was squirming and trying to get free to go exploring, quiet. I had to try hard for the rest of the meeting to keep from tearing up. I did tear up later when I told Mimi about it. I am tearing up again right now trying to write about it.

I may be a big softie about this, but don’t mess with my daughter. Tears of joy won’t interfere with my aim. I’m just sayin’.

After the adoptive placement staffing meeting was complete, we were free and clear to adopt M&M on the earliest date we could get the adoption consummation hearing scheduled on the docket with the court. Our foster/adopt agency case worker made sure she sent the signed paperwork to the attorney as soon as possible after the hearing. With the completed file in hand, the attorney filed the petition for adoption on January 17, 2013.

Interestingly, The Queen and I received a notice from the court on Friday, January 18, advising us that a status hearing was set in M&M’s case for Wednesday, January 23. I immediately called the attorney’s office and asked his assistant if that hearing could be converted to an adoption hearing. She promised to get with the attorney and find out. Unfortunately, I didn’t hear back from her on Friday.

Or Monday for that matter. It didn’t dawn on me until after repeated call attempts and one voicemail message that Monday was Martin Luther King Day. Courts are closed on MLK Day. Attorneys’ offices are too apparently. Who knew?

Anyimpatience, I was cooling my heels in a business meeting Tuesday morning when I could no longer take it. I called the attorney’s office again and caught the assistant just getting into the office. She confirmed for me that the adoption consummation hearing was scheduled for Thursday, January 24, 2013 at 8:30 AM.

That was less than forty eight hours away. Awesome!! Immediately broadcast a text with the details to The Queen, Mimi and My Sister…The Devil and waited for their response…. And waited…. And waited some more.

Grrr. This was seriously not the level of response that I expected. Mimi got a pass because she is a college professor and was in class. I knew that I would hear back from her when she came up for air. As it was, I got a hold her before she got a hold of me. My Sister…The Devil works as an occupational therapist for a home health company putting her behind the wheel for long periods of time. So, the lack of response from her was not surprising. The Queen is usually very responsive to texts even though she is herding three house midgets demanding her attention.

As it turns out, she was busy praying and didn’t hear the phone do whatever it does for her when she receives a text. When I called her a little later, her response was the following text exchange:

The Queen: Hearing Thursday for what?

Me: To adopt our daughter.

The Queen: WHAT!!!!!!!!!!!! Are you serious?????????

My phone rang moments later. The Queen cried. I teared up and fought crying mightly as I didn’t want my business associates to get any weird ideas.

Then I had to suffer through the rest of the business meeting on less than five hours of sleep (long story involving Mini Me that does not need to be repeated here). Or, I should say, attempt to make it through the rest of the meeting. By about 2:00, I knew something was wrong. I had a splitting headache, I was dizzy, my eyes wouldn’t focus well and I had the aches and pains that said go home and pull the covers over your head.

I told my boss the deal and headed for the car. I wisely took a 90 minute nap in the car before attempting to head home. When I got home I took my temperature. 103 degrees. We have a winner in the germ sweepstakes.

I blame the boy.

No, really. It’s his fault for spending all that time at school with cootie covered tricycle motors.

So, there I am just 40 odd hours before I am supposed to adopt my daughter, and I came down with something. For the second time in a month. There might have been fowl imprecations involving ducks uttered blindly to the wind. That, or I was hallucinating by that point.

I did what any self-respecting father to be does in this situation…I pulled the covers over my head and went to sleep after two Tylenol and a glass of water.

I don’t remember a thing until the phone rang at about 5:30 in the evening. The Queen had lost her keys loading the kids into the car to come home from the park. Down a storm drain no less. Daddy Hawk to the rescue with the spare keys. In hindsight, I should have done what we wound up doing when we got home which is to take my manhole cover key back to the storm drain, take the cover off and retrieve her keys. I could have saved myself an extra trip and been back in bed sooner.

Oh well.

Wednesday saw me at the doctor’s office. Doc says viral infection, take this stuff and go rest. Okay. What choice do I have when I’m still running a fever less than 24 hours before I am supposed to adopt my daughter.

As I told my boss, I was going to be there even if they had to prop me up and put a mask on me.

Adoption day dawned way to freaking early after The Queen and I spent a restless night getting things ready for an early departure and generally not being able to sleep very well. More so The Queen than me. Still being somewhat sick, I could have slept like the dead had The Queen allowed it (which she eventually did). We had to get Mini Me and The Banshee to another foster parent to babysit for the morning so we could have a peaceful ceremony of just family and make it to the court house by 8:00 AM. Through traffic.

I pulled into the parking garage next to the court house at 7:59 AM. Daddy Hawk is good.

I needn’t have worried. We found out later that the judge we were assigned to was late getting to the court house because of traffic. So, the hearing which was supposed to start at 8:30 didn’t begin until 9:15 or so.

We could not have cared less.

M&M was having a great time exploring the court room. She made a new friend with the court room deputy who gave a cute little stuffed bear. Her audience for the day was Mimi, Opa and Oma (The Queen’s parents), Renee (our adoption agency coordinator) and Rochelle (our agency case worker) as well as several people with hearing times following ours. M&M was dressed in a brand new white sailor dress with dark blue trim which Mimi bought her special for the occasion.

The hearing itself was mercifully short. Almost too short after all we had been through in the past nearly fourteen months. Our attorney called me as a witness and asked me line by line if the information in the adoption petition was correct. It was. Then, The Queen was called as a witness to verify that her answers would have been the same had she been asked the same questions. The attorney rested the case by asking the court to take notice of the testimony and evidence presented. The judge asked The Queen and I a couple of questions including “Do you promise to spoil her rotten?” Someone said, “we already are.”

Finally, the moment we had been waiting for, the judge said “It is my great pleasure to grant this adoption….”

I’m not sure exactly what she said after that as The Queen and I were both crying and smothering each other and M&M in hugs and kisses. I can check the video later, but that’s not the point.

The point is that she is ours forever. No one can take her away from us anymore. In my heart, I truly believe that God blessed us with this little girl, and that we are truly fortunate to have her in our lives. We were patient. We didn't fight (even though we were this [] close to jumping into the middle of the ring).

We were the ones holding the baby at the end. Just like we said we wanted it to be.

** I hope this story has made sense. It was written over a period of three months. Most of the story was written months after the events described took place. Some of it was written as it happened while other parts of it were even written/outlined before the events happened and edited later. I’ve tried my best to keep past, present and future tense straight.