Girl Drama doesn't affect me much

I am the father of three boys. They are among the greatest joys in my life. I wouldn’t trade them for anything on this or any other planet. I accept that God did not mean for me to parent girls. I suppose in His wisdom He knew I would be a complete and utter pushover.

Fortunately for me, I have been blessed with some nieces along the way. And I’ve encountered numerous young ladies at schools, church, and even at my baseball camps.

Parents of females mention the term “girl drama” to me occasionally. I have little experience with that, though my boys are certainly capable of their own theatrics at times.

Either way, if you put me in a group of kids for any length of time, I am equally drawn to both the boys and the girls. And often- for a few moments- I get to be the pretend Dad of a young lady or two.

Take, for instance, an occasion nine years ago when the baseball team I was coaching visited a home for abandoned and orphaned children in Greenwood, South Carolina. Before I could get all the way through the door to the Connie Maxwell Home gymnasium, I had been adopted. I’ll never forget little Jessica and how this beautiful little nine-year-old ran straight over to me and decided that I was her personal companion for the day. She had me at “Hello.”

She skipped the wiffle ball game so she could sit on my lap and watch. She never really asked permission but simply plopped down on my knee and gave me a huge, unconditional hug every couple minutes. She wore a tiny bracelet around her neck that said “Angel” and I concluded rather quickly that it was an accurate portrayal of the treasure I was holding.

Her captivating eyes searched me as we conversed. She boasted that she wanted to be a cheerleader in college someday, and to prove her ability, she performed two routines for me on the spot. “I don’t know all the words, but I’ve got a lot of spirit,” she explained.

At one point she pulled my wallet out of my back pocket and rummaged through my family pictures. She wanted to know all about my three boys. “They’re perfect,” she said as she intently studied one particular picture. “I could teach them how to play ball if I lived at your house.”

She then explained how people were looking for her mother all across the country in hopes that someone could find her and bring her back to “be a Mommy again.” But in the meantime, Jessica informed me that she was willing to be adopted if someone was willing to take her and her sisters.

I visited Jessica a few times before I moved away a couple years later.

When my time with Jessica ended the last time I visited the Connie Maxwell Home, I watched as she clogged along in her oversized shoes toward the cottage where she lived. When I could see her no more, I stood frozen, realizing our trails would now diverge in opposite directions. But in those moments when our paths had crossed, this precious little angel had captured my heart.

Alas, there’s more to the story but it will have to wait a week to be told.