These entries are love letters I write for my children, Abby and Eason.
Dear Unknown, I don’t know if I am writing this letter to my foster daughter, myself, Abby and Eason, or someone who might read it and doesn’t know Jesus. But I do know that this week, I felt shattered and in that place, I was
Abby and Eason, Before I met Jesus, I was in charge of my life. I worked hard to make sure I looked good and did everything right. Anyone saying otherwise challenged my view of myself and made me work harder and harder to prove I
Abby and Eason, I am kind-of all over the map on topics for these letters. I think in the next couple of weeks, I want to sit down and plan the letters better… so you can look forward to that. But for now, I want
To my foster friend, You don’t know this blog exists yet. And, that is okay for now. But I still want to write you a letter – in the middle of the drama. This summer has been rough – really, really rough. And I am
Abby and Eason, Trauma is unavoidable. The experience of trauma is very different from person to person, but I don’t think that there is anyone who hasn’t experienced it or won’t experience it in their lifetime. As I have talked to people, there is a
Eason, I have to imagine that this summer the thought of “what’s happening” passed through your mind often. Things felt out of control… and they felt stable at the same time. What had changed were the circumstances surrounding us; what hadn’t changed is that our
Abby and Eason, Having a sick child is extremely difficult. I think Abby would tell you that being a sick child is even harder. And, Eason might say that supporting a sick sister is stressful. This summer that stress became reality. We all knew that
Abby and Eason, Let’s start at the beginning of the summer. SHOCK. I guess that would be the emotion. Our family has fostered many kids, and one of the things that I believe has made that possible is that we always know our WHY (why
Abby and Eason – It has been a long summer, and I haven’t written…. As you know! In the beginning of summer I kept thinking I would return to writing. But, by mid summer, I knew I had to wait. There was simply too much
