David McElroy

Tim and Keri Richardson have provided foster homes to more than 70 children over the years. They have five children who are biologically their own — and they have provided “forever homes” for another seven children.

About five years ago, they were going though a rough time financially, but things got worse when one of their cars was stolen. With only one vehicle remaining, the family had to make two trips when they went anywhere. They tried a GoFundMe campaign, but they raised only $390.

Through a Texas church, Christian comedian Michael Jr. found out about the family and wanted to help. He said he didn’t feel as though God was telling him to just buy a car for them, but he felt called to give members of his audience a chance to help.

He sold tickets to a “No-Show Comedy Show,” which allowed his fans to buy tickets to a non-existent show of his — and all the money went toward a vehicle for the family. Working with a Texas car dealership, Michael Jr. selected a Nissan NV as the right vehicle for this large crew.

After everything was put into motion, the comedian went to the family’s home — and he found something quite unexpected on the family refrigerator, something which had been placed there two years before.

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I would be bored to death with myself if I were still the same person I was in my 20s.

I can divide my adult life in a number of different ways, but the easiest is according to how I’ve earned a living. Some people do the same thing all their lives. Many have two or three careers. I’ve had at least seven distinct periods — none of which I expected when I was 25.

I’ve changed radically over the years, so my needs have changed. The opportunities presented to me have been all over the chart. All of that has meant I’ve needed to reinvent myself time after time. It’s taught me a lot. It’s kept me from getting bored. But it’s also brought me to a place I never expected.

The last 10 years of my life have mostly been spent in places I didn’t want to be. For the first time in my life, I’ve felt stuck. Trapped. I somehow felt as though I had lost control. The old magic which had given me success and excitement had deserted me.

And now the time has come for me to reinvent myself one more time — and to write a story that might be very different from what I once expected.

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I didn’t get into fights when I was a child. I never picked on other kids. I was taught to walk away from trouble if I could. So I almost never had physical confrontations.

But there was one Sunday night — when I was about 12 or 13 — when a small-town bully left me no choice. I hadn’t thought about that confrontation for a long time, but I’ve dreamed about it repeatedly lately. I’m not sure what my unconscious is trying to tell me.

I was spending a week with a friend who lived an hour or so from my home. His father was the pastor of Oakman Central Baptist Church in the tiny town of Oakman, Ala., so I had been to the church several times that week. And there was a bully there — a slightly older kid — who seemed to think it was great sport to pick on the visitor.

Sunday night was going to be my last time at the church for that week. I was going home the next day. And it was after the Sunday night service — on the front porch of the church — when the bully pushed me one last time.

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