Today I continue my crusade. I have testified about child abuse before state lawmakers more times than I can remember. I’ve lived to see child advocacy become a public concern. I am grateful that the world finally has the courage to open its eyes. My wife asks me when we can retire, but I tell her I’ll die in the saddle. With my last breath I’ll continue to fight for these children. I cannot save them all, but I can save some of them, and that’s worth doing. There are other Graces out there.

When I was a ten-year-old boy sitting in a Methodist Sunday school, my teacher asked what we would do if we had been at Calvary. Would we deny Jesus like Peter had? Or would we carry Jesus’ cross? As one who had read more than his fair share of comic books, I said I would take a machine gun and mow down all the Roman soldiers who were crucifying Jesus. My teacher nodded understandingly, then asked, “Then who would save us?”

I was never able to answer this. The whole thing seemed just a colossal miscarriage of justice, but then, I guess that’s the point. But this has always been God’s way, wringing good from evil. In some ways, this is true of Grace’s life.

I loved Grace; time has only confirmed this to me. But life goes on and so must we. At the age of twenty-three I was married to Brooke Christine Mitchell. Four years later we tried to have our first child. We learned that neither of us could. Brooke cried for nearly two weeks.

But, as so often happens in life, from our hurts come our greatest blessings. Brooke and I made a decision that changed many lives: we adopted the first of our eight children, each of them taken from an environment of abuse or neglect. With each child we saved, a cycle has been broken. We now have more than a dozen grandchildren who know only security, peace, and a parent’s love. What Grace planted in me will save generations from neglect and abuse. I do not take credit for this but I do take hope in it.