"No, thanks," I said. "That's alright."

"O.K.," she said, "I'd better be getting back home then."

This happend a few years ago, and I remember at the time being charmed by this young girl's innocence, even a little scared for her, that she felt so comfortable with a complete stranger. I didn't know then that Glenn's daughters and sons (four at home; five total) were adopted, or that they'd come from families with disfuntions too numerous or gruesome to mention.

But now that I do know, it's hard to see Glenn and his wife, Christine, as anything other than master child builders.

"The craft of parenting teaches us a tremendous ammount of patience," he says, pausing. "These kids are so resilient . . . it does a lot for my heart to see them rise above their various seen and unseen problems."

I hope someday they can know the dedication of a pair of hands that has handled them--crafted them, worked with them, taken time with them.

Sanded and prodded and tweaked. I hope they can see those hands.