I asked her, “How many people are in your support group?”

“Four-hundred” she said.

With my mouth gaped, I replied “And those are just the ones who’ve decided to actually join a support group in this city.”

“Right.”

“I wonder how many aren’t in a group?”

“Good question.”

This is part of a conversation I had this past weekend at a party for one of our former foster sons. My wife and I were the only ones at this party who weren’t close to seven or seventy years old.

So, what group did this woman belong to?  Continue Reading…