Nelda’s podcast interview with her friend George Lynch from the volunteer organization Traffick911 explains how this team of heroes helps restore what has been stolen from trafficked, but infinitely valuable, children — their individual voices and choices.
My arms opened, and consoling, warmth, and forgiveness of each other, and also self, love, and trust flowed and was spoken, while gifts of repair and healing literally filled my heart and hers. We have all lived through actions we regret.
I want to be a girl. I want to dance with reckless abandon across a flower-covered mountainside. I want to lie on a quilt in the sun and watch clouds overhead. I want to twirl in a beautiful calico skirt, barefoot in the grass. I want to be a girl.
It’s time to plunge in, set out, and embark on a new adventure. I don’t know about you, but I’m always a mixture of excitement and a little trepidation when I start something new. Right now, I’m trying to envision you, my traveling partner.
Rocking little girls to sleep can be addictive in a good way. It’s my way of connecting without words. Those moments of swaying together, humming, singing, and breathing in rhythm. It seems to bind us in a way nothing else can.
I went down to the crowded shoreline amongst the splashing bundles of energy to look for my towheaded one and our dirty blonde. I finally stood on a rock to get a better look. No go. I considered irrational fear and tossed it aside.
I’m sitting upright in my bed on a Saturday morning…it’s three minutes to 10 am…and this occurrence is so rare I will write about it. My 9 year old leans against Karl’s pillow and is talking aloud to a Zombie Villager who has invaded her Minecraft village. She wears her blue earbuds (her favorite color) and speaks a little louder than usual.
My escape artist dog is visiting the neighbor’s yard today – she’s got her nose to the air for my scent, and even honeysuckle can’t hide her knowledge that I am here to catch her and take her home. It’s the battle of the wills and my hungry stomach. She’s a bit more tenacious in some ways, but I think I can wait her out.
It’s early in the morning and as my backyard teems with bird life and squirrels, our friendly, crazy woodpecker friend announces his presence with his typical drilling on our fence. It’s a sound I’ve grown accustomed to hearing and a “shout out” that funny antics are to follow.
Sometimes the humor of my life situation reminds me that God has a sense of humor, and will stop at nothing until I quit griping and trying to control things, and just throw back my head with laughter and hold on for the ride.