My youngest son Jeff and I have always enjoyed joking and teasing each other. But one early January Night when he called long distance, he wasn't teasing. He and his wife's first child, a girl named Anna after my wife, was about to be born. Her Mother, our daughter-in-law, had seemed very small during the pregnancy, but her doctors assured her all was well. It wasn't.

"There're pretty sure Anna is a "Trisomy 18," and that means an extra or third chromosome, on the eighteenth pairing." "That means all kinds of serious problems!" The immediate pain pushed me into denial. "Now Jeff, stop kidding, this is no time to joke around." "I'm not joking, Dad, and I need Mom and you to get down here as soon possible."

We were in Birmingham before Noon the next morning, and what a sad scene it was. The next few weeks were spent hovering around the neo-natal intensive care unit, with "Brahm's Lullaby," played over the Catholic Hospital's public address systems, each time a "normal" baby was born. Anna was baptized by their Methodist Pastor, I left to go back to my work, and Grandma stayed for three weeks to help and support. She was a big help, for not only is she very compassionate, but a registered nurse.

It was a blessing that Anna died a few months later, for she was badly deformed, severely retarded, and couldn't even swallow. As I sat in the little chapel during her funeral, I asked the same question I had been asking myself over and over, "Why?" Immediately, a memory shot up from my unconscious, of a short walk I had taken with Winnie, Jeff and Angie's little daschund, not long after Anna's tragic birth.

Not more than two hundred feet from their apartment, I had seen a garbage can overturned, and an old 45 speed record propped up against a tree. When I curiously leaned over to see what was written, I saw it was a song by Lynn Anderson, "I Never Promised You A Rose Garden!"

Truthfully, the impact of that "message," did not sink in until after the funeral. Actually, it is still sinking in, seven years and two healthy grandsons later. In time I've added my own phrase to the ending of the song's title, "I Never Promised You A Rose Garden ---And Even Roses Have Thorns!"

No where do the Christian Scriptures say God promises our life will be trouble or tragedy free. However, we certainly prefer it to be, even think it should be. Our attitude about tragedy and misfortune is, "that sort of thing will not happen to my family or myself." Another variation on this theme is, "Well, I know that things can't always go the way I want them to go, but nothing really serious is going to happen to us; just to others."

Really, that is the way I thought for years. Really, that is the way many think. This kind of thinking does not prepare anyone for the tragedy which ultimately comes to everyone and every family. When it does come, we don't have the inner strength needed to face it. Instead we busy ourselves in denial, bitterness, and blame.

I have not told my son and daughter-in-law about the record leaning against the tree. I don't think they would appreciate it. They are not ready to hear about that, even seven years later. Once when I spontaneously exclaimed gratitude to God, for our beautiful two grandsons, their sons, their simultaneous question was, "How can you thank a God who would let Anna be born?"

I don't have the answer to their question. I don't know why the horrific tragedy of the World Trade Center and Pentagon happened. I just finally am beginning to realize and accept that I do not and cannot control what happens around me and to me. I cannot control both the tragedy and the good blessings of life. In the remaining years of my life, I will continue to be surprised by both positive and wonderful surprises, and by unexpected tragedy. It just also seems that I, like many, tend to emphasize the negative instead of the positive experiences of life.

A few months ago, our son, his wife, and our 5 and 2 year old grandsons visited us for several days. I had the idea that when each day began I would give them each a little gift, which I called a "surprise." They came to love this, with the oldest climbing into bed with my wife and I in anticipation, just waiting to see what his surprise would be.

One night earlier this week, the 2 and one-half year old's voice was on the phone when I answered. "Grandpa, I'm ready for one of your surprises." Our son informed me he had been begging them all day, to let him talk to Grandpa.

Our life is full or surprises, both nice and not so nice. We are not in control of these surprises. However, we can be in control of how we react to them. We can be in control of how we grow from the experience of them. God never promised any of us that our life would be a rose garden. And even roses have thorns!