Granny had just bought a sandwich for her office and was stopped at a red light in the city center. She had the window rolled down to enjoy the soft wind when a man rushed up to the driver’s side window to rob her. The robber broke into the open window with one hand in his pocket. He ordered Granny to get out of the car, or he would shoot her. A word like that would have frightened anyone else. Instead, Granny saw it as a challenge.

Completely unafraid she said that if he really had a gun, he would have pulled it out. She was right. The criminal had no gun actually and tried to pull her out of the car. Granny sounded the horn and started shouting out to draw others’ attention. With the door now open, she started kicking the man anywhere her foot could reach. After a kick to his stomach, the man attempted to escape. But Granny wouldn’t stand for that. It was now her turn to grab onto him. That poor fool didn’t have a chance. She called for help to bystanders, and they rushed to her aid. With Granny leading the charge, a group of strangers came together and took the man to the sidewalk, holding him there until the police came.

When asked by a young reporter covering the story why she fought back and wasn’t afraid, Granny’s answer was surprisingly simple: She had had her new car for less than two days and a pack of good sandwiches for her office. And there was no way for the robber to get either of those. Although we were angry with her because she could have gotten herself killed, we all learned an important lesson from her that day.

Two summers ago I was about to turn fifty and wanted to do something I’d never done before. My daughter Bailey thought skydiving (跳伞) would be perfect for me. I can promise you that of all the things I was thinking of doing, jumping out of an airplane never came close to making the list. As I age, I seem to have developed a growing fear of heights.

After several requests from my daughter, I finally said yes and she looked almost shocked. I told a friend what we were doing, then we set off. We had a 3-hour drive to the jump site. We drove through some beautiful countryside, but then we passed a small cemetery (墓地)Then we passed another cemetery and another one. I asked if so many people died jumping out of airplanes in this area that they needed to keep building more cemeteries to bury all the bodies!

As we squeezed into the little plane, I tightly held the right hand of my partner Ronnie. The short ride to altitude was cruel for me. As Bailey stepped to the door, she looked back at me and said “Dad, I’m sure you can do it!” I said yes as she rolled out, I immediately looked behind me and said “RONNIE I AM NOT FEELING GOOD” He said, “It’s going to be great. Besides, it’s too late now anyway”, and we jumped out.

The next five minutes were some of the most exciting of my life. It was so beautiful and peaceful—except for the parts where I was screaming. I prayed to God for the parachute(降落伞)to open, but mostly I told Him how thankful I was for my life and being with me through good and bad.

A nervous 11-year-old called Anthony showed up at Peter Mutabazi’s doorstep around 3 a.m., wearing blue sleepwear and a gray Batman blanket over his shoulders. Having been abandoned at a hospital by his adopted parents and desperately needing a place to stay for the weekend, he carried a bag holding a sweater, a pair of sneakers and not much else.

It was January 2017. Mutabazi wasn’t ready to take in more kids—he had just said goodbye to two foster(寄养的) brothers and needed time to regroup. Then he remembered what it was like to feel scared, alone and unwanted. As a boy, he fled from his home where his parents abused him and lived on the streets of Kampala, Uganda, before a stranger paid his high school tuition(学费), leading to a college scholarship and an eventual move to the US.

Within minutes of his arrival, Anthony asked Mutabazi if he could call him dad. The boy, who had been in the foster care system since he was a little kid, never left Mutabazi’s house that weekend as planned. Mutabazi adopted him and gave him his last name.

Last month, Mutabazi formally adopted two more children: brothers who had lived with him for three years. Mark, 8, is the new boss of the house while Luke, 7, is a shy boy with a sweet smile. Their family is an unconventional one—he is Black, and his adopted kids are White—but Mutabazi, 49, believes that love transcends racial differences.

Since becoming a foster father in 2016, he has hosted about three dozen kids of all races and cultures. Some of his foster children are reunited with their families, while others remain in his care. Mutabazi shares glimpses of his life as a foster dad with his 328, 000 followers on Instagram to encourage other men to be active fathers and signal that a healthy family is based on love, not skin color.