Dr. James Dobson once took his young children on a skiing vacation to California. Coping with two kids who were complaining loudly about the cold and fighting over their gloves and scarves was getting on his nerves. But on that trip he learned a lesson he would never forget: “After getting the kids located at the lodge, I parked the car and waited for a flatbed truck to take me back to the top of the mountain. About fifteen young skiers waited with me. I noticed a girl in her early twenties standing with the others. When she looked at me, I recognized that unmistakable appearance of mental retardation in her eyes. She was behaving strangely and repeating the word ‘whomever,’ without meaning. The other young skiers smiled and rolled their eyes. Then I noticed that the man standing near her must be her father. He had seen the reactions of scorn on the faces of the other skiers. So he put his arms around her, looked down lovingly, and said, ‘Yeah babe, whomever.’ The compassion in his voice and his manner seemed to be saying, ‘Yes, it’s true. She is very limited in ability. She won’t write songs. She won’t write books. In fact, she’s already out of school. We’ve done the best we could for her. But I want you all to know something—this is my girl, and I love her. She’s the whole world to me. I’m not ashamed to be her father or to be identified with her. ‘Yeah babe, whomever!’” Dobson says he apologized to the Lord for complaining about his kids and looked forward to hugging them at the top of the mountain.