“There! That should do it.
Sigh”.
Word-smithing a workable mission statement can be a daunting venture. While, in our case it surely was, we felt gratified in the outcome. The Lord’s fingerprint seemed present. This was humbling.
So, by now most of our official-sounding boxes had gotten ticked. Yay. . .
Register as a campus organization, Tick. Recruit faculty advisor, Tick. Secure Photo I.D. etc. Tick. Do the Non-profit 501©3 Thing, Tick. Set in place a governing Board (lots of prayer invested on that one!) Tick.
Our residential move into Tulsa County meant a fresh schooling adventure for ten-year-old Amy. Not the easiest transition, since her growing up years till now had passed in far off East African. It was amazing – to her credit and God’s – that the many topsy-turvy upside-down experiences Amy underwent throughout the seasons of adolescence, the teens and young woman-hood left her reasonably unscathed.
The sprawling Haikey Creek Park lay a short distance from our home and served as a kind of therapy-session zone for the three of us. I had come to realize that I was way over my head in the parenting-skills department. Perhaps, especially here in America. The Lord’s mercies graciously brought us all through these seasons. My wonderful third-born proved herself nearly super-human in resilience. . . and in forgiveness toward her rather often dysfunctional dad.
Haikey Creek Park – its acreage playing host to a host of pecan trees – gained added notoriety in our family circle when Amy’s big brother started making wedding plans with his bride-to-be, Sarah.
In time, the Rehearsal Dinner topic was broached.
“Dad”, our M.K. son began, “could you find us a goat to barbeque?”
©2024 Jerry Lout