this is real.

"seek justice, rescue the oppressed, defend the orphan, and plead for the widow." --Isaiah 1:17.

This is the second time I'm sitting down to write this post. I wrote it yesterday for the first time.  Then, as I was uploading some photos, the entire thing disappeared.  Poof.  Gone.  Let me say that never, in almost four years of blogging, has that happened.  I don't think it is a coincidence.  Something tells me that something doesn't want the content of this post to be exposed to the light.  It is so disturbing that it's hard to write about, read about, and think about.

***

A little girl sits in a cold, dark, bare room. Every day, about ten to fifteen men come into her room.  They rape and abuse her. When they are done, they leave her alone in the room until another man comes in.  She has been locked up in this room for three years. Her parents sold her as a sex slave when she was nine years old.

***

This is just one of many gut-wrenching stories Chris and I heard this past Sunday morning as we sat in church. A man named Don Brewster, an American pastor in Cambodia who founded Agape International Missions, shared about the reality of child sex-trafficking in Cambodia.  

Sex trafficking is a massive problem all throughout the world today. It happens overseas, and it happens locally in the United States, but the situation in Cambodia is unique.

Don shared that everyday, hundreds of pedophiles from all over the world, particularly the United States, fly into Phnom Penh to visit the brothels in Svay Pak--a small Cambodian village that is globally known by these predators as a trafficking hot spot.  What these men do to these girls is inhuman.  They find the youngest girls they can, sometimes as young as three years old.

One of the girls who had experienced such abuse stood on the stage at church on Sunday.  She came to the states back in 2008 to testify against a U.S. Marine officer who had done unspeakable things to her.  That day in court, for five grueling hours, she sat on a witness stand and recalled and verbalized the horrifying things that were done to her by this man.  She stood up and spoke so that this man could never do these things to another girl again.  This man is now in prison for life.  This precious young lady now lives with a foster family here in California--they stood by her side as she took the stage on Sunday.  

As Chris and I sat in church and listened to these horrifying, true stories, we felt sick to our stomachs.  You probably know where my mind went.  To Tess, to Lu...to one of them being that little girl in that cold, dark room, bearing an unspeakable amount of violence day after day.  

It is hard to imagine that evil on this scale is real and running rampant.  

But it is.  

Every day, every hour, every minute.  

How can I absorb these stories and then go home and assume my normal American suburban life?  I came home from church on Sunday with my stomach up in my throat.  These stories and images run through my mind every night as I lie in bed.  When I hear stories like this, it makes me want to drop everything and go to Cambodia to help.  But that's just not possible for our family, at least, not right now.  So what can I do in the midst of where God has me?  What can any of us do?

It might not be a lot, but I want to try and raise awareness about this.  I know I don't have masses of blog followers, but at least it's a start.  I hope my voice can help raise prayer and financial support for those who are boldly fighting against this grotesque evil on the front lines, both in the US and in Cambodia.  So, here's some vital info and practical ways you and I can help behind the scenes...

I know that sex-trafficking has gotten a lot more publicity over the past couple of years.  It is a massive issue globally, as well as right here in our own country, our own hometowns. According to a fact sheet published by Agape International, human trafficking produces $32,000,000,000 in annual trade for traffickers.  Worldwide, there are nearly two million children in the commercial sex trade.

In Cambodia, many parents sell their children for sex so they can eat. Sometimes it's so they can buy a TV.  Poverty seems to be the precursor to so many evils that occur in our world today--AIDS, orphaned children, sex and drug trafficking...and the list goes on. Where poverty is present, evil has a foothold.  According to UNICEF, 55,000 women and girls are trapped in the sex trade industry in Cambodia.  35% of these are under the age of 16.  The police in Cambodia know what's going on, but many turn their heads because they benefit from it.  

If the police and the government won't intervene, and if the children's' own parents--the ones who are supposed to protect them--are selling them into this, then how can this ever change?  Who will help?

The only hope for change is THE CHURCH.

Agape International Missions (AIM) is making a dent in this heinous industry by rescuing its victims and providing them with a place to recover.  The Agape Restoration Center--one of the ministry centers of AIM--provides long-term aftercare, counseling, and education for many of these girls.  It is here that many of them learn about Christ's love for them and the hope they have in Him.  

AIM also started Rahab's House Church, pictured above.  This building is a former brothel, but then AIM came along and leased it, and now it is a place where people in the community can hear about Christ's love and receive food, medical care, education, and childcare.

Please watch the ABC NEWS video below that features Agape International.  It is only about four minutes long and gives an accurate view of the situation in Sway Pak.  Don Brewster, director of AIM, is also on this clip:

If you want to support AIM in Cambodia, you can visit their website and read more about their operation.  So far, they have rescued over two hundred girls from the sex trade.  You can support them by praying and become part of their prayer team.  

You can also support by making a financial donation--keeping their programs up and running requires a lot of expenses. Don and his wife, Bridget, are back in California now to raise more support before they return to Cambodia.

***

As for the United States...our own turf...things get a little more complicated, a little less cut and dry. 

I don't know a lot yet. I've done some reading, and so far, this is what I understand about the situation.

Firstly, I want to say that I can see why people turn their heads to this stuff. I've read many news articles over the past few days and the content is the stuff of nightmares. I have a hard time reading it. But not reading it won't make it go away. And as a mother of two girls, I need to know what is going on...I need to be in touch with reality, with the world that my girls will grow up in.

The Washington Times put out an article in the past month entitled 

"Sex Trafficking in the U.S. called 'epidemic'." It is estimated that about 70% of the girls in the US sex trade are runaways from broken homes. They are in foster care or have run away from foster care. They come from horrible home situations, where one or both parents abuse drugs. Many have been physically and sexually abused from a young age. They are seduced and manipulated by a man who promises them a better life--a life which turns out to be another nightmare. Many of these girls believe they have no other options.

But what about the other 30%? I think we want to believe that if our young girls come from good, middle-upperclass, educated homes, then they are safe. What I'm coming to believe as I dig deeper is that no one is safe. I read one troubling article about a girl who was taken out of her own driveway while her parents were at home. She was found forty days later in an apartment complex in Phoenix, Arizona, in a storage drawer underneath a bed. She had been drugged and raped repeatedly.  

The statistics make my head spin. This crime is not limited to age, race, gender, or background.  It knows no limits.  

As Don Brewster mentions on his blog, our federal government spends $15 billion to fight drug trafficking, while the federal budget only allots $110 million for human trafficking. $110 million is a lot of money...but compared to $15 billion it's mere pocket change. The numbers say that addressing this isn't a very high priority to our government representatives.  

So what can we do here in the US?

Write your senator an e-mail and voice your concern. If you are a pessimist like me, you may think that this won't do anything.  Maybe it won't. But if you don't do anything, then it definitely won't do anything.  

Also, the more research I do about adoption and sex-trafficking, the more troubled I am about our country's foster care system.  This system is JACKED UP. So many children are re-abused in this system. When Chris and I were praying about this adoption, we were grieved by the realities of our nation's foster care system, and we also knew that with girls as young as we have, it would not be safe at this stage in the game to become foster parents. This system needs to be infiltrated by foster families who are equipped to help these children. There are many options to help children in the foster care system beyond becoming a foster parent.  

If you have a heart to get involved and volunteer your time to some struggling kids in your own city--many of whom are vulnerable to sex-trafficking--I highly recommend reading this post by Kristen Howerton over at Rage Against the Minivan: YOU DON'T NEED TO ADOPT TO CARE FOR ORPHANS.

Is there a need for more funding and stronger legislation in the fight against sex-trafficking?  Sure.  

But this is also beyond what money and laws can do. This is an evil so deep that only God Himself can conquer. But I do believe that as His followers, we are expected to fight this evil in some way and He wants to use us--His Church--to do it.  

If you are still reading this, I want to thank you for hanging in there.  This is a difficult topic. I will close with a quote from Don Brewster's blog:


"From a biblical perspective it is easily seen that evil is only overcome by sacrifice. However, this biblical truth has also been confirmed in the historical fight against slavery.  The victories achieved have only come through sacrifice, the sacrifice of many. 

So what is sacrifice?  Webster defines sacrifice as “the surrender of something prized or desirable for the sake of something considered having a higher or more pressing claim.”  But I believe that definition falls short of the sacrifice necessary to defeat child sex slavery.  From Webster's definition we might think of giving up something we want as sacrifice.  But true sacrifice, the sacrifice that frees slaves, results from sacrificing from what we have or need.  This true sacrifice is painful. Still, if we are willing to endure that pain, the pain of giving up what we need or have (time, talent, and treasure) children will be set free from an unimaginable horror.  Personally, I cannot think of a thing I have that is more prized or desirable than that.  Now I pray for the strength to live out that belief."

boy.

Many people are perplexed when we tell them we are adopting a boy from China.  


Is that even possible?  I thought they only had orphan girls?


That was my first response, too.  But then I found out that the opposite is true--that there are indeed, thousands of little boys in China who need homes as well.  There is a massive need, both in China and in other countries (including our own) for boys to find forever families.  


This is a video that Love Without Boundaries put out to raise awareness about the boys who wait.  It's pretty awesome.  Maybe God is calling you...

the 400 meter dash...of motherhood.

During the spring of my junior year of high school, I ran track.  I was tired of all the politics and pressure that came with playing soccer, so I decided to rebel and try something new.  It was a way to stay in shape for field hockey season in the fall, which was my main sport, my true love.

I was mainly a sprinter.  100 meter dash, 200 meter dash.  In the rare event that someone was needed for the 400 meter dash, I would fill in, but only with reluctance and angst.  

400 meters equals one lap around the track.  It’s not that far, right?  Don’t let looks deceive you.  This is why this race is so treacherous.  It looks easy to outsiders, but those who run it and train for it know it requires a supernatural blend of speed and endurance.  Not for the faint of heart.  

In fact, I’ve recently been thinking that the dynamics of running the 400 aren’t so different from the daily race of mothering small children.  It goes a little something like this...

7 a.m.  The starting gun fires when my firstborn comes to my bedside.  My muscles are rested, poised, ready for the race.  I take off in a hurry, serving up breakfast to the children and the dog, getting everyone clothed and ready for the day.  I’ve sucked down my morning coffee and I’m feeling good as I go around that first curve.  No biggy, I’m in the lead!  Hey, this is easy, I could do a few more laps after this!  My energy and ambitions run high.  Bring it on.

9:30 a.m.  I’m nearing the end of the front curve and I’m starting down the back straight.  I’ve gained momentum and I’m keeping speed, still feeling good.  I drop my preschooler off at school and it’s just me and the toddler now.  Doin’ fine, running errands, getting things done.  Look at me!  Smokin’!  I check things off my to-do list.  The wind rushes through my hair.  My legs carry me quickly.  

12:00 noon.  I’m nearing the end of the back straight and my muscles aren’t as sharp and responsive.  My energy is starting to sag.  I feed the toddler lunch and change another diaper.  I clean up breakfast and lunch dishes.  I do some laundry.  I’m starting to break a sweat and I’m starting to smell of perspiration.  I need a shower.  My blood sugar starts to drop.  I put the toddler down for her nap.  I need some lunch.  I need some more caffeine.  I trudge onward, not quite as inspired, but still making ground.    

3:00 p.m.  I’m rounding the back curve and my muscles are feeling drained, tired.  They’ve exhausted the readily available glucose in my bloodstream but they still need more fuel to carry on.  I make a cup of coffee, looking for a pick-me-up.  The toddler is awake and is starting to run laps around me.  The afternoon sun streams in the kitchen windows, tired yet relentless.  The finish line is in sight, but it still seems so far away.  How can I still have so much distance to cover?  Dinnertime and bath-time routines still lie before me.  My speed wanes and I’m slowly losing feeling in my legs.  This isn’t the time to slow down though.  Maybe I should have paced myself...I still have to pick up the preschooler from school.

5:30 p.m.  The armpit of the day. I’m starting to feel desperate.  I finish the back curve and start down the home stretch.  There’s still 100 meters before me, the most crucial part of the race. I’m wondering where my endurance has gone.  It feels like the race should be over but I’ve got to keep going.  The runners children behind me threaten to overtake me. The preschooler is whining from hunger and fatigue, wondering where dinner is.  The toddler is in destruction mode, pulling books of the shelves and climbing over the family room furniture.  My brain is in a fog, my energy sapped.  I get dinner on the table.  I’m too tired to eat.  The cramps feel like knives in my side.  I need a strong drink.  Lord, help me.  

7:00 p.m.  There’s only 50 more meters between me and the finish line.  The children are bathed and ready for bed.  Just a little more ways to go...I can do it...I can do it!  I see the finish line clearly now.  I’m almost there.  I can no longer feel my legs.  They are numb from overexertion.  My vision blurs and my lungs sting.  I don’t know how I’m moving but I am.  Just a few more feet.  Bedtime stories and prayers are all that’s left.  Just a few more minutes...

8:00 p.m.  I made it!  I finished the race!  I fall into in a lifeless heap in the middle of the track, wondering what just happened to me, gasping for breath.  The lights are out and the doors are shut.  The children are asleep.  My muscles tingle and my head hurts.  I lie there for another thirty minutes before I feel the life start to come back into me.  I continue to breathe.  My entire body is weak.  I need to eat.  Rest has never felt so good. I relish the moments of quiet and stillness before I get to do it all over again tomorrow. 

***

Most days, I feel like I’m just running in a circle.  I can feel the exertion and the fatigue, but it’s hard to calculate progress when you run the same terrain over and over again.  This race is run every day, and every day it challenges me.  Every day I run this loop and sometimes I wish I ran cross country instead...I wish for a slower pace and a more scenic route.  But I know I’m building strength and endurance, even if it doesn’t always seem that way.  And in the end, the repetition and stability of this track is what helps my children mature and grow, so that one day, they can run the race too...

feeling it.

This post is probably going to be long, but it’s important too, so I hope you bear with me.  I feel full of so many thoughts and emotions and I’m not really sure where or how to start.

This afternoon Chris and I go to Sacramento to get our final set of fingerprints taken for US Immigration--the last hurdle before our dossier is complete.  As this paper chase winds down, I’m becoming more anxious and less patient to find out who our boy is.  Realistically, there could be many more months of waiting until we know.  Because of our agency’s restrictions, our boy must be nine months younger than Lucy, but right now there aren’t any boys available for adoption that young.  It’s hard waiting for a referral when I know there are thousands of older boys already available and waiting. I have to remind myself that God knows what He’s doing.

On Wednesday morning I got an email from my friend Becky, who has a friend of a friend who lives in China and fosters a little boy named JB.  JB was living in an orphanage before he was moved into foster care. At five months, he weighed only seven pounds. The volunteer pediatrician who advocated to get him placed with a foster family knew that if he didn’t start receiving better care, he would not make it. Since being in the care of a loving and attentive foster family, he has gained weight and received surgery to help with his vision.  He has recently been approved by the Chinese government for adoption, but if no one takes advantage of the opportunity, he may not be adoptable in the future. JB turned two years old in March. He has glaucoma, cataracts, and hydrocephaly.

As I read through the email, I prayed and asked God to show us if this was our son. I forwarded the email on to our case manager at our agency and asked her if JB might fit with any of the families in the program right now. I pray this boy can find a family.  There are so many kids--especially the ones with more severe needs--who are only adoptable for a short window of time.  I’m still trying understand how it works, but it seems that the Chinese government typically won’t deem these children appropriate for adoption (they question how any one would want them).

My heart is heavy for this little guy, along with so many others who have severe needs and no family.  And I also feel burdened as I ponder how severe a need our own family could realistically take on. Chris and I prayed and labored over our special needs form as we filled out what kind of needs we felt we were open to, but each time I read about a different child who needs a home, I second-guess our decision. And again, I have to trust that God knows what He’s doing, that His timing is perfect.

So, that is that, and all throughout the day on Wednesday I was thinking about little JB, his sweet face in my mind.  Around noontime, I took a shower and got dressed while Lucy was napping.  I pulled my new SO LOVED T-shirt out of the drawer, excited to wear it again. I love what this shirt represents and I feel proud every time I put it on.  

Then, around five p.m. that evening, we were winding down and getting the house ready to host our church growth group.  While the girls were eating their dinner, I was catching up on the blogosphere, and went over to Stefanie’s blog--the one who sold the SO LOVED t-shirts--to see what was new. As I read her post, tears welled in my eyes and I felt my chest drop down into my stomach. Stefanie shared that her Esther--one of the sweet girls she was about to bring home from China--had passed away. She found out late on Monday.

Ever since I read this news I’ve felt pretty overwhelmed with grief. The level of sorrow I feel has surprised me. I’ve never met Stefanie.  I’ve followed her blog for many months now and she’s been a huge source or encouragement and support as we’ve embarked on our own adoption process. Her story has given me courage in the midst of all the fears I’ve had. I’ve tracked her incredible story of her most recent fight to bring two more girls home from China, Poppy and Esther.  Esther was in need a heart surgery as soon as possible, and Stefanie was trying to get her home as quickly as she could so Esther could get the care she needed.  Stefanie has already raised about $30,000 for these girls by selling the t-shirts.  And now she just found out that she won’t be able to bring Esther home.

It’s hard to make comparisons when you are walking the road of adoption because there is nothing quite like it. But as I think about this loss, I recall the deep pain of miscarriage, perhaps because that’s the most tangible personal experience I have to relate it to. You hope for a child and dream about what it will be like to be their mother--to hold them and care for them and know them--and then that life is lost and those dreams shatter and the grief is overwhelming and you ask why, why?

I’ve been thinking about Stefanie a lot over the past couple days, and even though I’ve never met her, I’m realizing how close-nit the adoption community feels, even if our interaction is limited to the internet.  Not knowing anyone in my immediate community who has adopted internationally, I cling to those I meet all across the country via the world wide web, who have walked this path before me.  I cling to their stories and experience; I look to them for support and understanding because a lot of this process can feel isolating. Seeing how Stefanie has loved and advocated for so many who don’t have a voice has impacted me and I feel for her loss profoundly.

I deliberated over whether to post all of this or not because I don’t want to be insensitive to this loss and I can tend to feel pretty powerless when I think about all of this, but I decided to do it, hoping that others could join with me in praying for Stefanie and her entire family in the wake of this news, and also praying for sweet JB, that he would find a family. 

I’ve been reading quite a bit about China over the past several months, and there are so, so many children that have treatable medical conditions but who fight for their lives daily because they don’t have access/funding for the care that they need. There are people out there advocating for these children, trying to raise money for their surgeries or helping to find them families, but sometimes it isn’t fast enough.

I read a book a few months ago called Silent Tears.  It’s a memoir by a Kay Bratt, an American woman who lived in China for five years and volunteered in a local orphanage.  She writes, 

“Today we had a meeting of the orphanage volunteers, and I learned one of our cleft palate babies died over the weekend.  I was there only yesterday and found her bed empty, but I thought she’d been taken to the hospital.  We have already raised money for her surgery, but now it’s too late. I was not surprised; last week while I fed her, she was having a terrible time. It was taking too long, and finally one of the staff took the bottle away...She died simply because of her inability to take in nutrition.  Unfortunately, as usual, the workers don’t have the time necessary to feed a severely handicapped child; instead, they focus on those who are healthier and quick to eat.”

So, I guess I also write this post in hopes to raise some awareness.  There are many children who need a heart surgery or a surgery to repair their cleft palate so they can eat properly.  Some need frequent treatments for severe asthma or antibiotics for pneumonia. Many of these children don’t make it in orphanages. 

There is an incredible ministry called Love Without Boundaries--a ministry that helps children like this.  This ministry sponsors children who need medical care and they run some fantastic foster homes where these children like JB can get the care that they need. If you feel at all burdened or moved by this, please look at their website.  You could make a huge impact in a child’s life. Whatever you have to give could make a difference. It could give these kids a chance at life.  

Thank you for reading this. I know there are limitless needs in this world and people feel called to address different needs in different ways. But if you feel led or burdened at all to help these kids, to sponsor a child or even adopt a child, well...that would be really awesome. It could make all the difference in the life of one child.  

If you have any more questions or would like more info about JB or how to help, feel free to contact me.

“To the world you might be one person, but to one person you might be the world.”

it's been a year.

This morning I awoke to the pitter patter of Tessa's footprints creeping into my room. My mind was still partially engaged in dreamland as I felt her crawling up the end of my bed.  I cracked my eyes open.  Sun streamed brightly through the windows behind me.  I glanced at the clock.  6:15 a.m.  I looked at the empty space beside me.  No Chris.  Strong pangs of deja vu overwhelmed me.

A year ago today, the scene was almost identical. A year ago today, Chris left for his deployment to Afghanistan. A year ago today, he left our home at 4 a.m., en-route to Norfolk, VA, where he would catch a military flight to Bagram. And this morning, again, he was not here. Of all places, he is in Norfolk, VA again, or Virginia Beach, to be more precise, for a civilian job interview--and thankfully he will be returning home tomorrow, rather than traveling into a war zone.

It's strange to revisit such a familiar scenario, particularly one so vivid and haunting. I felt caught in a tug-of-war between past and present most of the day. As each hour passed today, my mind kept floating back to this day last year, mindful of how today's circumstances eerily resemble those of last year, and yet how different everything is now.  

Today I was aware that I am not the same woman, the same mother, who woke up alone in bed last year. The circumstances of last summer forced to me grow up a lot, to gain confidence in myself as a woman and a mother because there were no other options. I am glad that experience is in the past, and I'm also thankful for the way that it has shaped my present--for the way that pain and endurance builds character.

Last year on Mother's Day morning, Tess, Lucy and I went for donuts and then to church, our traditional Sunday routine.  I was determined to try and keep things as normal as possible, despite the sleepless night and emotional good-bye Chris and I had shared several hours prior.
  

Tess at "Happy Donuts." 

May 9th, 2010.

One year ago.

Maybe I'm a little wiser now, or maybe just lazier, but this morning I said, whatever, that's too much work. It's not normal when Chris isn't here, why try and fight it?  So I stayed home with my girls this morning.  We watched movies and played in pajamas and I just enjoyed them. I enjoyed how much they've grown up this past year, too, and I enjoyed the immense gift that they are.  I feel so grateful and proud to be their mom.  

Last year I started a blog for just Chris and I, so we could keep track of our correspondence during his deployment.  I went back to that blog today and read my first post to him, which I wrote a year ago today.  I thought I'd share it here...

"Day 1.

My first post.

A lot of time and energy has been spent in anticipation of this day--today--that has finally come. I still remember you kissing me good-bye in bed this morning before you left. I remember thinking in that moment,  Wow...so it's finally here.The number of times I've imagined what that moment would be like, how I'd feel, whether I would cry or not, whether you would cry or not...are too numerous to count. It feels strange to suddently be on the other side of that moment. The hourglass has now run out of sand and it's been flipped over again to start another countdown--not the countdown until when you leave, but the countdown until when you return. I feel relieved to be on the other side of it now. I am glad that what we've anticipated and dreaded for so long has finally come. Now we are suddenly in the thick of it.

Here. We. Go.

I was thinking today that this equation doesn't work without you. Of course, I could have told you that even before you left today. It didn't take your leaving for me to know and feel the truth of that statement, but surely, the circumstances surrounding today left me with the palpable reality of it. Waking up at 6:20 to the first words out of Tessa's mouth... Where's Daddy? Waking up and realizing it was only 6:20 and that the other side of the bed was empty and that the day ahead of me would be long and lonesome was almost too much to bear. I told Tess that you were on your trip, to which she nonchalantly repied, Oh, but the rest of the day seemed to reveal that she was not apathetic to your obvious absence. She had three pee-pee accidents today, two of which ended up in a puddle on the floor with no attempt to conceal them. It's almost as if she wanted me to know, Hey Mom, You can't fool me, I know Daddy isn't here and I don't like it. Just when I thought that things were getting back to normal since the birth of Lucy, everything blows up again. Tess has such a sensitive spirit, and yet she's also a resilient little thing. This new change will require her to adapt in new ways, and I have faith that over time, she'll be okay. I have to believe that we'll find some sort of stride, even if it's a limp, especially in those moments when all I can think is this doesn't work without you, this doesn't work without you. 

It's about 9pm now and the house is silent. Both girls are down, and earlier today I never thought I'd make it to this moment. I already poured and drank a substantial glass of wine, and I'm ready to pour myself more. The white roses you left me sit here on my desk to the left of my computer. The dishwasher is full of clean dishes and the dirty ones are stacked high in a pile to the left of the sink. If you were here you'd probably have already unloaded and loaded the dishwasher for me, but for now they'll have to wait until tomorrow. Tessa's room was also a disaster when I put her to bed tonight. I didn't have the energy to have her pick it up. I feel that there is evidence all over the house of your absence and I don't like it."

Today I'm thankful that Chris will be on a flight home tomorrow, instead of on the military flight pictured above. I'm thankful that there are no more deployments in our future. I'm thankful for all of those who serve our country and who are currently walking through the fear and loneliness of deployment. I'm thankful to be a mom, I'm thankful for my girlies and for the son we are yet to meet. I'm thankful for my mom and for the positive ways that she shaped me and prepared me for womanhood. I'm thankful to have made it through this past year, and for the God who loves me and carries me and molds me.

summer 2010.

Happy Mother's Day to all you moms out there. I hope your day was blessed and filled with JOY.