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Lost and Found in the Asphalt Jungle

My children don't have a neat quarter-acre suburban backyard. Yet they call our inner-city mission field home.

When Charles was in eighth grade, he called my husband, Roger, and asked if he could live with us. He had previously stayed in our home while his mother tried a drug treatment program. She had become unstable again and his cry for help brought Roger to tears.

With four children of our own, we felt unable to take Charles full-time. We created a compromise when our Free Methodist boarding school in neighboring Kentucky accepted Charles as a student. We told him that as long as he stayed in school he could live with us during school breaks.

For the next five years, Charles managed to stay in school. Once he sabotaged his success and the school expelled him. He lived with his mother for a time, since he had negated our arrangement. Attending an urban school and living with his mom got his attention, and he soon petitioned the boarding school for re-admittance and was re-accepted.

During this time, our children treated him like a brother. He was older than our kids, and our young sons Luke and ...

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