The first part of this story is when FosterDad arrives at our church. Read it first!
Then, don’t forget to read his side of the beginning!
My parents had separated just before Christmas of 1978 and were divorcing. My grandfather had recently died, and my mom was now living 4 hours away. Being 14 years old at the time, I was embroiled in the middle of a heated court battle over the custody over me and my 2 younger sisters. I had no idea where I was going to be going to school the next school year.
And if my world wasn’t falling apart enough, my best friend, Sonya, was moving away that summer! Somehow, someway, I was invited to spend a week at church camp with her before she moved away.
Sonya and I were so excited over our first “real” camp experience and being able to spend a whole week – 7 full days together! Long before the bus pulled out for the journey across Texas to New Mexico, Sonya and I were sitting on the bus together giggling and being silly together as we did so well.
THEN, that foxy preacher’s son strolled onto the bus. He was making his way down the aisle and sat in the seat across from us! GULP! My heart skipped a beat when he spoke to me, and my shyness overtook my personality.
 |
| Me at age 14 |
“So, what’s your name?”
“Penelope”
“I’m Steve.”
“Hi.”
“So, what grade are you in?”
“I’m gonna be in the 9th grade.”
“Oh, nice meeting you. See ya’ around.”
Of course, this is how I remember our first exchange…..
To this day, FosterDad will probably tell you that he got called to play cards, but in reality, as a college junior, he was not interested in talking to a little girl that just finished junior high!
Stay tuned for his side of the story!
