by Chris Henderson We spent so much time praying that God would heal our son, Robert, and free him of his terrible illness. We wondered why would God allow him to suffer so much. Like so many other parents, we asked, “Why won’t God heal him?” There were no answers. We later began to understand that his condition was, in fact, a genetic condition. It was only after he passed away, that we had the complete genetic report that revealed he had a sporadic (one-of-a-kind) set of mu

Okay, this is not going to be like Chris’ unbelievable tribute to me in his blog last month. I have to say that I am just not that good! If you will give me about three minutes of your time though, I promise you I will describe the man I married who is simply the best father I know. Yes, I am going to honor my father, too, because he is still happily living his life, and it is always a blessing to honor him. Let me start with my dad, Major General (Ret.) Robert C. Gaskill, Sr

“What’s wrong?” “I’m headed to the hospital with Robert, and my phone is dying! I can’t get it to work right. Ugh!” “Which hospital? I’ll meet you there.” Cell phones and hospitals do not always make great companions. But, before we can even discuss those times when my phone dropped out in the Pediatric ICU, I need to tell you that my technology expertise is somewhat lacking. (Somewhat? Ok, lacking more than my adult kids’.) I know what I know, and when I need to learn some

This year’s significant birthday marks on my calendar a reminder of passing time and has me asking many revealing questions. When my family was blessed to see the Broadway musical, “Hamilton,” in New York a few years ago, each scene moved me as I sat mesmerized in my seat. Some scenes more than others gave me pause, as some of you who have seen it can imagine. The finale song lyrics for the musical still make me think deeply about the measure of my life and the time given: “Y

Standing outside a hospital building and celebrating the woman inside turned out to be a moment to remember! Several female friends, their children, along with a television crew had all come to wave from the parking lot as our beloved girlfriend was isolated inside to protect her from any germs. And there my Robert was, too—in his wheelchair, rocking it to the cheering of the celebratory crowd and delighting himself in the multitude of colorful balloons. I am sure he thought