THANKFUL FOR GRACE
As a young boy in a small Texas town, I was somewhat of a rebel. I always seemed to be looking for something to do that I shouldn’t. One weekend while my parents were out of town (I was staying with my grandmother), I decided to get the key to my dad’s old pickup and start it up. The only problem was that, as a fifth- grader, I didn’t know the difference between a standard and an automatic transmission. I turned the key and the truck lurched through the deep freeze, knocking down the wall behind it. You could now stand at the street and see our dining room. My father was a junior high principal, and I knew that when he got home, he was going to use one of his famous paddles on my behind and probably ground me for a couple of years. Finally, the day came for my parents to come home. I was at a friend’s…
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