A Quote by Rodney Atkins

I was a sickly baby, and after two sets of adoptive parents took me home, they returned me to the orphanage because of a serious respiratory infection. But as they say, the third time's a charm, because my mom and dad adopted me and took me into their home where I was raised in a family full of love.
For me, trying the NFL and trying this football thing, because of the home and what I went through in there, to me, it was no big deal. It was just another opportunity for me. I didn't see that bigger, grandiose picture of it, I just took it one day at a time, like how I took it in the group home.
We already had an adopted daughter, 10-year-old Courtney, from my previous marriage. To me, there is no difference between 'natural' and 'adopted.' My own childhood showed me that when it comes to loving your kids, concepts like that don't apply. I was the oldest of six, and three of my siblings were adopted. Mom and Dad even took in foster children. 'There are no limits to how much you can love,' Dad always said.
I was raised by my mom. My dad was always traveling, but she allowed me and encouraged me to be close to my dad. So I grew up with three parents: my mom, my dad and my stepmom. Ninety percent of the time I was with my mom, and 10 percent was with my dad.
Because my home life was nuts, I didn't look to my parents for help. I looked to my teachers. They made me who I am. They took on a parental role. They're like celebrities or heroes to me.
Me personally, I'm real close to my mom. She raised me. It was a single-parent home situation. She did everything: cooked, worked two jobs, came home late, but she loved me to death.
It took me a long time to write again because Katrina destroyed the home I loved, and that robbed me of hope.
Today I am so at home in Dublin, more than in any other city, that I feel it has always been familiar to me. But, as with Belfast it took me years to penetrate its outer ugliness and dourness, so with Dublin it took me years to see through its soft charm to its bitter prickly kernel - which I quite like too.
Jesus has said "Come, blessed of my Father, take the seat in the kingdom prepared for you, because I was hungry you gave me food, I was thirsty you have me drink, I was naked you clothed me, I was homeless you took me home and I was sick you visited me." And we are just doing that.
I took a huge risk. At the time, I was an Orlando Magic dancer, and I was going on my third year. It was then when wrestling was introduced to me. I took a chance, packed up all my stuff, and moved away from home.
I can't save you like that Ty. What you did to me wasn't this brilliant thing, like you think it was. You took me away from everything - my parents, my friends, my life. You took me to the sand and the heat, the dirt and isolation. And you expected me to love you. And that's the hardest bit. Because I did, or at least, I loved something out there. But I hated you too. I can't forget that.
My Dad took a workshop from a photographer who worked at the Toledo Blade, a newspaper I delivered. I knew this photographer's work. My Dad took a night class from him at the University of Toledo. Without that class, I wouldn't have become a photographer, because my Dad came home and taught me what he learned in class.
I felt pain every night. After games, it took me a long time to walk to my car, and the driving home, it took me a couple of minutes even to get out of my car and extend my legs and just walk.
Dance to me is my home. I say dance is my home, because in a home, you want love, creativity, respect, all these things, and to me that's everything that encompasses dance. So I feel at my best when I'm dancing. It helps me to be strong and to release so many of my emotions and be in tune with myself.
I shoplifted. I was about five years old, and I took a candy from a store. We paid for three of them, but I took four, and I went home and cried. My mom took me back, and I paid for the missing piece.
As a youngster in the little orphanage home in New Orleans, I was the bugler of the institution. When I got to be around 13 or 14 years old, they took me off the bugle and put me in the little brass band.
My mom is American, so I was raised in her household in my formative years. But as I got older, my pops tried to keep me involved with the culture by telling me the stories of the conflict between Ethiopia and Eritrea, how he came to America, and about our family back home, because all that side of my family, my aunties, grandparents, is in Africa.
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