Here’s an excerpt:
One of my priorities as I write is to always be truthful. Sometimes the truth is beautiful and charming and inspiring. But other times it’s messy and ugly and…somehow still inspiring when we allow God to wrench it from our grasping fingers and use it the way He wants to.
Here’s fair warning that there’s some truth of the messy variety ahead.
One recent afternoon, my heart sank and my stomach contorted into knots as I surveyed the ugly purplish-red mark on my bawling daughter’s arm. I noticed with chagrin the set of tiny teeth marks confirming the perpetrator’s identity.
It’s moments like these when anger overcomes affection and I realize my love for my foster sons is…