A different kind of miracle.
I don’t recall ever crying on Christmas until this year. The closest I came was probably the year I turned 11 and my brother got a boom box and I got Christmas dishes. That was the same year I met Beth. It was my first rafting trip, the summer before I would enter middle school. A poorly timed practical joke pulled on our raft by Beth’s raft almost left Beth floating down a class 4 rapid, but I anchored her to the side of our boat and we made it to the side of the Rouge River before Blossom Bar. Sorry these pictures look weird - the computer wouldn't let me put them in except in a bitmap format....the one on the left was taken in 1996 on a Cause beach trip (my sixth grade year) and the one on the right was taken in 2003 on the high school senior retreat. When I entered the middle school youth group a few months later, Beth was there again. It’s always fun when you already have a history with the cool 23-year-old leader. To say that I was an annoying middle school student would be a...