Five years ago today my oldest son, Benjamin, was born. Five years ago on June 19th my middle son, Timothy, was born. I missed both days. I didn't send out any "It's a Boy" notices. I didn't deliver flowers to my wife. I don't even know what I was doing on those days in May and June of 2001, except probably writing away on my dissertation. It's not that I was a deadbeat dad five years ago. I just wasn't a dad. I missed my sons' births because I didn't know they were born.
As a matter of fact, five years ago today a baby was born but his name wasn't Benjamin. It was Maxim. Five years ago a few weeks from now, another baby was born but his name wasn't Timothy. It was Sergei. The two of them languished in a Russian orphanage for over a year until the Lord directed our steps to their nursery door and on to the Russian courthouse where we adopted them, and changed their names.
[Read the rest of the article at Moore to the Point.]