Well, Kathy, put me in jail because I listened to my daughter's phone calls
with a stelth recorder I spent 300 dollars on just for that purpose.  You
think I care it made her mad?  She may still be reading the echurch mailing
list for all I know so she might be reading my message.  Good.  I just said
the other day to my wife that I wish I could see to drive.  I'd follow my
daughter around to find out where she is really going.  She has been
recently caught in lies but she had backup lies for the original lies.  Same
old routine and she is no teenager.  It's rough, Kathy, when one of your
children thinks they are smarter than God.  I had a migraine headache this
week, which I haven't had for years, that could have killed an elephant.  My
daughter chose, in public, out in front of everybody that wanted to listen,
to tear her mother down to the ground by using every four letter word in the
book.  But, as I often say, church ain't over until the fat man/lady sings.
My daughter does not get the last word in my house.  Nobody does.  My
youngest son, due to circumstances that got out of control, refused to leave
my home one night.  I wasn't mad until he said, "I'm not afraid of you,
dad."  Then I did get mad but not stupid mad; just hot.  I pushed in all the
way across the house to the front door.  Pretty stupid, I know, pushing a
guy around who is bigger and has his third degree black belt, but nobody
ever said I was the smartest kid my mother ever had.  Then I made a big
mistake.  I picked up the phone and pretended to call the police to have him
removed.  I know, it was dumb, but like I said, I was mad by this point.  I
wasn't angry; there is a difference.  Anyhow, maybe I told this before, it
sounds familiar even to me but I'll repeat what I said, if this is a repeat,
my son started crying and said he couldn't believe I would call the police
on him.  We talked that night, and again a few days later, and straightened
things out.  I even told Donna, his wife, the mistake I made and that was, I
broke my son's heart instead of his will.  I don't want you and Graig to
ever forget, however, your home is a place where God dwells.  Chris has no
right to violate your home, or you for that matter, and I think you guys
have been doing everything in your power to help the little brat.  So what
do you get in return?  A kid who pokes his wrist as if he is going to kill
himself?  A punk who man handles his mother, his blind mother, I might add?
A spiritual pygmy defying his own father?  A dope smoker who thinks he can
whip the world?  Mercy belongs only to those who receive it.  shoot, I broke
cassette tapes, broke dope pipes, tore up cigarettes and dumped them on the
bed, searched my daughter's purse every time I got the chance, hunting
through her room and drawers and closets and clothes and pockets and braws
and shoes and you know what?  I'm even worse about it now because there are
two children involved, one whom we have legal guardianship over, and I'll
kick butt if I have to in order to save them from human stupidity and sin.
It gets old, as I am sure you and Graig have learned, being used by your own
children and especially by the one who thinks they can get away with sin
against God.  Warm up that baseball bat I told you about once a long time
ago, Kathy, and take some practice swings.  It isn't your son the devil is
after; it is your family and your marriage and your church and your church
members.  Come out swinging.  I'll fly out and visit you in jail if I have
to but don't go down without making a big statement and hitting a couple of
home runs first.

Phil.