Batting One Thousand Poem by Joseph Anderson

For my foster son, who came to us from a broken home-1967

Four years ago we tensely scanned
The portal where you stood,
Because, we felt within our hearts
Your chances weren't too good.

But in the big ball game of life,
You played with scarce a balk;
Although you often did strike out,
Your goal was not to walk.

A special blend of fate and guts
And purpose all the way,
Has brought you through your senior year,
Right to this blessed day.

A graduate now, firm and erect,
You've crossed a vital door.
We are mighty proud, for in our book,
You've just gone four for four.

What lies ahead, God only knows,
But if someday we should
Be placing bets, we'll bet on you.
Your chances sure look good.

A few years later this young man received his
master's degree, from the college of his choice