Moving is at the top of the list of things I hate to do. In the past three and a half years, we've moved three times. Two of those have been cross-country moves. As regular readers of this blog know, the first move was forced on us. Our granddaughter Allie was shaken and abused and nearly killed. This incident left her in a coma for 10 days and hospitalized in San Francisco for eight weeks. Allie is severely handicapped as a result.The Charming and Beautiful Susan and I decided to adopt this precious little one and since this occurred in California, we had to move there. We left family, friends, jobs and home, to make this happen.
After a year and a half, the adoption was finalized and we packed up and moved home to South Florida. But specialists and facilities that accommodate Allie, along with a good part of my work, are all located about fifty miles south of our West Palm Beach home down in Broward County. So we've rented a town house in Deerfield Beach, closer to where life has taken us.
We have incredible friends that have stuck with us through all of this. We are grateful for you all. You support my ministry to missionaries, you've helped us with Allie, you've ministered to our needs where ever we've lived, and you've helped us load and unload three moving trucks. We've had more deep friendships develop in this past three years than most people have in a lifetime. Like beauty for ashes, unbelievable blessing has come out of our devastating tragedy. Thank you for your friendship and prayers. Christ has made Himself visible through your love and acts of compassion toward my family.