Simple Pleasures That Money Can't Buy

My son, the marine, has had his share of ups and downs throughout his brief life. We adopted him when he was five years old, but during his first five years, he faced more trauma than some of us have to face in a lifetime.

His biological family abused him: they burned him with cigarettes, the didn't put him on solids for a long time....and kept him on milk...even though he had a very bad allergy toward that; he fell through a glass coffeetable and cut his eye brow severely and they didn't seek medical attention; his dad was murdered in a drug deal gone bad; he was adopted by a family that was dysfunctional; the wife abused him emotionally and physically; he suffered from psycho-social dwarfism -- that is because of all the emotional trauma he was faced with, he stopped growing -- by the time we got him him at age 4 he was the size of a two year old toddler; the adoptive family fell apart; and then he arrived in our home because we had gotten to know him at church. His adoptive mom was the church secretary.

We didn't want to see him in foster care....so we stepped in.

So needless to say....after we adopted him, he suffered more than his share of psychological and emotional issues including depression and ADHD.

Not to mention that his new dad turned out to be QUEER!

My physician said that we should be patient and that by the time he was 25 and his cerebral cortex fully developed, things would get better.

At times I thought that I had made a mistake in adopting him......that my life would have been so much better. I questioned whether I would survive until he turned 25.

And, then, he joined the military -- the marines. He got in. He had his rough moments, but he began to excel. He moved up in rank. He learned to do as he was told. It was amazing.

Then came Iraq.

I worried.

I became afraid of doorbells.

I was so afraid that he would do something foolish because of his impulsivity.

But he returned....and he has grown so much. He's a marine for goodness sakes. He's young....he's buff......he's handsome........and thank God, he has matured!

I saw it a my birthday bash. He was helpful....not disrespectful. He talked with a quiet confident manner.

He spent 3 weeks with me before he had to return to check out of Le Jeuene in NC. We had a grand time. It was actually good having him home. No fusing....no fights......no yelling..... Just calm....peaceful.....living.

He called me from Lejeune yesterday just to say hello....and to see how I was doing. He gave me his schedule and told me he'd be back on Friday early afternoon. We're now making plans for me to go with him on a roadtrip across country to his new base in Texas.

Since that is where he was born....and it is the resting place of his biological father, I'm going with him to help find the grave.

During our conversation, the quiet, wellspoken young man told me something I had never heard him say. He said, "Dad, I know there were times I put you through hell....and I'm sorry. I love you though....and I know that you love me too. I'm looking forward to our time together, because I love spending time with youl."

Well, as you know by now, tears are my constant companion....always just below the surface.

They began to flow.

It can't be any better than this.