Spiritual Growth | Cookie Cawthon | product of a tenacious grace

December

How to Make Your Dollar Go Farther This Christmas…

I met with a man this week who is willing to give me his house.

For free.

For real.

That was a first for me.

Hold up…..let me fill you in on the backstory.

——————–

A year and a half ago I met Keisha. In jail. She was about half way through a three-year incarceration. She had grown up in a good home: two parents, a brother, raised in church, gave her life to Jesus around the age of six, and was baptized then. A storybook beginning.

Until Keisha turned 12.

She caught the itch of rebellion and took a hard right off the straight and narrow. She was an unwed mother and in an abusive relationship with the father of her sons at age 13. Bad choices led to more bad choices, an apathetic attitude, and a disrespect for authority and others in general.

Her trajectory was set towards jail from the onset of adolescence.

Fast forward 20 years on that path and Keisha is incarcerated on December 5, 2013. Once she walked in, she did not walk out for three years.

And though Keisha had taken a detour from God’s blueprint for her life, His plan for her would not be thwarted. She brought her hard, defiant perspective into the detention center when she was booked, but this was His response…

Since she tried it His way, she has been baptized again, seen the Lord bless her with and develop her spiritual gifts, and grown into this crazy vibrant relationship with Him.

Six weeks ago, I received a call from a number I didn’t recognize. Which is not all that uncommon. I don’t answer calls from numbers I don’t know. Who am I kidding? I don’t answer calls from numbers I do know (I abhor talking on the phone).

The next day I received a call from the same number. And this time there was a voicemail.

When I listened, I heard Keisha’s voice on the other end, “I’m at home, Mrs. Cookie! I was released yesterday.”

And I really am as spastic as you might guess, so I started screamining. “AAAAHHHHH! WHAT!?!?!? How did this happen?? I just saw you on Sunday. We just prayed together on Sunday, and we did not know you might go to court. Tell me what happened!!!!!!!”

Since Keisha’s release, we have spoken every few days, enjoyed several lunch dates, and filmed a few interviews. I’ve had the opportunity to walk beside her and witness the challenges that accompany freedom after a long incarceration…

After a year and a half of jail ministry, I am confident we can do better. I have witnessed the unlikelihood of success when a woman comes in and sees Jesus use incarceration to protect her and woo her, and then we send her back into circumstances that haven’t changed. As great as the changes in her may be, the assault on God’s work in her life is IMMEDIATE upon release.

I am telling you, it is no wonder many return to decades-old destructive choices.

Enter the vision for Five Sparrows.

It is the long-term vision of Tenacious Grace to bring a transition home for formerly incarcerated women to the Pee Dee – Five Sparrows (based on Luke 12:6). A safe place dedicated to providing the support and scaffolding critical to these ladies’ ability to write a new story with Jesus. Spiritual stability, community, encouragement, life skills, counseling, accountability, and job connections to name a few.

The need is present.

The need is great.

And as confident as I am of my own name, I am confident this vision is from the Lord. It is consistent with His heart for the oppressed, the marginalized, and the captive:

“Then these righteous ones will reply, ‘Lord, when did we ever see you hungry and feed you? Or thirsty and give you something to drink? Or a stranger and show you hospitality? Or naked and give you clothing? When did we ever see you sick or in prison and visit you?’

“And the King will say, ‘I tell you the truth, when you did it to one of the least of these my brothers and sisters, you were doing it to me!’”

Matthew 25:37-40 (NLT)

One way I know it’s from Him is because I didn’t like the idea initially. Well, I LOVED the idea, but not its attachment to me. I suggested He tell someone else to do it. In a very Moses-like fashion, I have assured Him I can’t do this. I have told Him it’s too hard. I don’t know how to raise money. We, the Tenacious Grace team, have a lot to learn about recovery programs and recidivism. I have bargained and tried to convince Him this is too big for us. Yet He is unpersuaded.

He listens. He smiles. And each time He reminds me so very little of this depends on us.

So. With no confidence in myself but all the faith in my God, I tell you this thing is going to happen. Write it in your Bible. Write in your journal. Write it somewhere you can come back and appreciate God’s faithfulness.

It will happen.

I may get hit by a bus tomorrow, but His vision will persist to fruition.

Now back to the house…

——————–

We have been sharing and casting this vision for the past six months, and we’ve gotten connected with a homeowner who is willing to donate his home to Tenacious Grace for Five Sparrows.

Isn’t it too perfect?

But here’s the thing. It’s on their family land and has to be moved to make way for the house they’re building.

We are looking for partners who believe in this vision, and here’s how you can get involved, depositing your dollars into someone’s future and providing hope…

How can you invest in the futures of formerly incarcerated women?

Get Keisha connected to a job opportunity in Darlington County. Like yesterday. This is our most immediate desire. As we are walking with her through her transition, this is vital to her future. She is warm, super capable, loves Jesus, and ready to hit the ground running. Make some calls and help us help her.
Donate financially and consider scheduling a recurring gift. At the very least, it will cost $18,000 to move the house, about the same to repair it once it’s relocated, and we’ll also have the expense of laying a foundation before the move. And this speaks nothing of insurance, operating expenses, etc… (I had to cut the list short as I was starting to hyperventilate). As a registered nonprofit, your donation is tax-deductible, and we will supply a contribution letter for your tax purposes. If you prefer to give by check, our mailing address is Tenacious Grace, PO Box 7611, Florence SC 29502.
Land. We are looking for 10-15 acres of rural land to allow for growth and expansion. And we’re looking for someone to donate it. Someone who would love to see their property used for eternal purposes.
Share this blog post. Comment on it. Like it if you see someone else share it. Help us use the Facebook algorithm to get in front of people outside of our current circle of influence. The more you interact with this post, the more Facebook will keep it cycling in front of people.

You are officially invited.

Invited to be a part of something bigger than you and bigger than me. Invited to invest in impact that will outlive us when our dollar’s buying power is usually spent on short-lived gratification. Our belief in God’s vision fuels our faith in His provision, and you and I have the opportunity for a front row seat.

Because here’s the reality, God’s already at the groundbreaking for Five Sparrows. And He’s already at Day One of Five Sparrows. And even more than that, he’s already at the Five-Year Anniversary of Five Sparrows; we just have to hang on in belief and work hard.

Thank you…

Thank you for believing with us in what God wants to do through this ministry.

Thank you for believing that Jesus cares about the marginalized.

Thank you for believing that He means to take care of those society considers disposable.

We are humbled and honored by your partnership. Merry Christmas!

July

Revealing the Gritty, Grubby, Unpopular Truth about Grace You Need to Know Now

woman by shore

I’ve been in one fight in my life. In college. A friend was encircled by several, on the ground in the dark receiving blows. Hurting, outnumbered people evoke a primal reaction in me.

May I be so honest as to admit – besides the defense of my children – nothing incites a fight in me like arrogant smugness towards someone else’s pain.

My spirit animal is a bantam rooster.

bantam rooster

With that being said, I try to stay out of fist fights these days. You know, they’re not so fashionable on the forty-three year old wife, mom, Jesus-lover scene.

I try to fight smarter instead. With words. Not angry ones but healing ones. Under the banner of love, understanding, and grace.

And I find that grace is a widely misunderstood concept. You see, it doesn’t own a set of dress clothes. That’s why we don’t often see it in our churches. It’s not hipster or preppy. It doesn’t own a cardigan and can’t afford Starbucks.

It’s bloody. Dirty. It has mud under its fingernails and scraped knees and elbows. At its inception, its back was sliced to ribbons and its temple stabbed by thorns.

We don’t recognize it because it’s unlikely to cross its legs on a pew or cushioned seat. It inhabits ditches and cells and tear-soaked pillows and shattered hearts.

Have you seen it?

There came a point in my life when God loved me too much to allow me to continue in haughty self-righteousness. That’s a painful correction, friends. A trip behind the woodshed that I don’t recommend. When I tell you I have a healthy fear of the Lord, you can know it is because I know his discipline.

And his grace. His beautiful, expensive, muddy, bloody grace.

This is what He taught me…

Grace is not weak or timid.

Grace isn’t passive. It is a wise restraint, a love, a compassion fueled by an awareness of one’s own depravity and the generosity of God.

The only requirement for grace is that it is undeserved.

If grace were ever deserved it would be a reward not a gift. For instance, people who withhold grace infuriate me. Self-righteousness is the offense Jesus spoke most harshly against. BUT. The character of grace means I must extend grace to those who withhold it, or I am indicted for the very same thing I accuse them of. Grace must always be circular and lavish and unwarranted.

The grace we fail to extend today may be the grace we need extended to us tomorrow.

There is a just economy to the administration of grace. I don’t recommend taking the field trip to learn this one.

Grace doesn’t mean there are no consequences for sin.

But it does mean correction doused in love, compassion, and forgiveness. God uses consequences to change us, not to punish us. Transformation is always the goal. And if we are meting out consequences for poor choices that should be our motive as well. You get this parents……we dole out extra chores or restrictions to teach our children a lesson or to prompt a change in attitude or behavior. Scrubbing baseboards as the highway to a kinder disposition towards an annoying little brother.

Christians need grace. A LOT.

We can think we needed grace when we were scalawag heathens and that we are holy givers of grace after conversion. That would be true if the process of our perfection happened instantly. Unfortunately, your route and my route to perfection may include a ditch or two. They’re brimming with spiritual value.

From The Ragamuffin Gospel by Brennan Manning, a former Franciscan priest turned vagabond evangelist…

There is a myth flourishing in the church today that has caused incalculable harm: once converted, fully converted. In other words, once I accept Jesus Christ as my Lord and Savior, an irreversible, sinless future beckons. Discipleship will be an untarnished success story; life will be an unbroken upward spiral toward holiness. Tell that to poor Peter who, after three times professing his love for Jesus on the beach and after receiving the fullness of the Spirit at Pentecost, was still jealous of Paul’s apostolic success.

Often I have been asked, ‘Brennan, how is it possible that you became an alcoholic after you got saved?’ It is possible because I got battered and bruised by loneliness and failure; because I got discouraged, uncertain, guilt-ridden and took my eyes off Jesus. Because the Christ-encounter did not transfigure me into an angel. Because justification by grace through faith means I have been set in right relationship with God, not made the equivalent of a patient etherized on a table.

I am the worst of sinners. And so are you.

If we want a sin scale, the only accurate and biblical truth is to recognize, like Paul, that we are the worst. The safest and truest posture towards sin is acknowledging that we are capable of committing every single one.

We can’t fully grasp grace until we have needed it more than air to breathe.

Trust me, a girl doesn’t name her ministry Tenacious Grace because it has a nice ring to it. There is a depth to God’s grace that can only be experienced when lapping it out of beggarish desperation.

Grace is expensive.

Jesus died to broker grace. We are not to cheapen it with quibbling hesitance. Being a purveyor of grace will be costly. It may require a sacrifice of indignation on our parts. It may hurt to extend grace. That is consistent with how it was purchased.

Your opinions/feelings, my opinions/feelings have no bearing on grace.

Grace is not optional or selective. It cannot be. To make it such is to mar his sacrifice with our bloated self-worship.

God won’t stop until we have been changed by his grace.

God is ever wooing us with his grace. He initiates daily encounters with his beautiful, expensive, muddy, bloody grace.

Daily brushes with his tenacious grace.

[Rooster Image: Marji Beach]

May

The Secret to Difficult Conversation.

Kudos to the girl who called me out.

conversation

Essentially the Facebook message said, “I’m working on cleaning up some things in my life; can you meet with me sometime soon?”

I am often afforded the opportunity to have coffee or lunch with beautiful souls, so I thought little of it.

The sender and I travel in nearby friend circles and have attended the same church for years. Some time ago, when I was on staff at our church, she had entrusted me with a difficult road she was journeying, so I shot her some options for getting together, and we put it on the calendar.

We met at church during the second morning service, finding a quiet meeting room where we could close the door.

It soon became evident this conversation wasn’t at all what I expected.

Initially, I couldn’t figure out where she was going. It was like expecting to have a nice lunch downtown but instead being whisked on a flight to an unknown destination. I was listening….using context clues…….trying to get my bearings……and then I caught on.

This conversation was about me.

Am I seriously sitting here listening to this woman tell me she doesn’t like me? Is this real life?

My jaw tightened as I sat a little straighter, taller. My insides bristled.

She wasn’t angry. She wasn’t accusatory. She was almost charming as she related an interaction where I had been rude and exclusive. After having confided an intimate struggle to me in the past, she felt judged and snubbed by me in the more recent episode in question.

Father, You’ve got to help me here. Part of me wants to lash out; part of me wants to get up and leave. I don’t have to do this. But part of me wants to listen. Show me what’s true. Give me the courage to receive what I need to receive. Give me the wisdom and the strength to wade through the emotions to resolution.

I’m not usually one who can do multiple things at once, but I listened, talked, and prayed with a mental agility not my own.

She confessed anger, bitterness, and unforgiveness towards me. She told me unkind things she said about me to other people, and she told me who she said them to.

Oh my.

She disclosed she had been invited to participate in Who’s Your Daddy?, the Bible study I wrote, with a group of other women and that she had quickly rebuffed the offer.

Well…okay then…..this is going swimmingly.

And then she got me.

difficult conversation

“Listen, I didn’t want to do this. I have allowed so much garbage to take up residence in my heart, and this is how God told me to be done with it. This was not my idea; I just want to be free.”

You see, I know that slavery. I have junk in my heart. Bitterness and unforgiveness and stale hurt, and I want to run madly towards liberation too.

I get it, sister.

She continued, “Because here’s the thing. I really want to join these ladies doing your study. It’s been a long, dusty path full of a lot of hurt for a good chunk of years. I want to start and finish this study. But I can’t do it until this is right.”

Holy moly. This is legit.

Yes. My self-talk vocabulary includes “Holy moly.” And there was more…

“I don’t need anything from you. I don’t need you to explain or apologize; I just need to ask for your forgiveness. Please forgive me for harboring bitter, angry feelings towards you and for speaking ill of you to others.”

This is one of the most beautiful conversations I’ve ever been a part of. I am rocked.

I apologized for my rudeness and assured her of its inadvertence. I asked for her forgiveness and attempted to give context to the interaction that had gone afoul.

And I thanked her.

I thanked her because something Biblical had transpired. She was brave and gracious and wise and articulate. But most of all she was pure.

I applauded her.

She schooled me on the art and discipline of difficult conversation, and I hold her in high regard.

—————

Approximately 74% of people have a fear of public speaking. It’s long been feared more than death even. But I wonder if there isn’t a dark horse that rivals the fear of public speaking, especially among Christians. The fear of difficult conversation.

Though most of my professional life has required me to initiate difficult conversations on a regular basis, I hate them.

But they are vital to our health (mental, emotional, spiritual, and even physical), and not one of us is excused from the responsibility to have them.

Are there difficult conversations you need to initiate?

Putting off a difficult conversation makes it harder 100% of the time.
The success of a difficult conversation depends wholly on your purity of heart and motive. There’s no faking this one.
Pray a lot. Before, during, and afterwards.
Go into the conversation without placing ANY expectations on the receiver or his/her response.
The success of the conversation is not determined by a favorable response. It is defined by you effectively communicating your message with purity and grace. You have no control over the other person; God can handle the other half of the equation.
If you are on the receiving end of a difficult conversation, be an open recipient. Allow God to show you truth and guide your response.
In any conflict, there is almost always wrong on both sides. Own your part and ask for forgiveness.

Epilogue

The lady in the story above…..she did complete the study. I had the chance to share a meal with her at its conclusion and hear her thoughts.

She and I have corresponded about this post. She’s been praying over it because we both want you to run madly after liberation too. She has challenged me, and I am taking some hard next steps in this area myself. When I informed her of that, she said, “Pursuing you into that conversation was one of the hardest acts of obedience yet in my life, humbling and yet incredibly freeing.”

She also went on to share, “My greatest struggle is what to do with those who will not meet with me. Hard to know which way to walk in that and break the chains of bondage – forever.”

That’s a reality. Not everyone will be receptive.

Romans 12:18 makes allowance for that. “If it is possible” suggests that it isn’t always possible. And “as far as it depends on you” recognizes that peace doesn’t only depend on you.

If we extend ourselves – in purity and grace with love and peace as the motive – and we are rejected, God’s pleasure and His freedom can still be ours. It just won’t look like relational resolution, unfortunately.

[Images: Paulo Valdivieso and Neha Viswanathan]

November

Does Fear Make Me a Bad Person?

A Syrian refugee flashes a victory sign at Reyhanli refugee camp in Hatay province on the Turkish-Syrian border March 31, 2012. REUTERS/Osman Orsal

It looks like I’ll be enjoying turkey, dressing, and cranberry sauce with a side of fear and trembling this Thanksgiving.

I’m afraid.

The kind of fear that needles sleep and browbeats waking hours.

It takes my breath.

It steals.

I have slept through the night twice in two weeks. Mostly my brain tosses and turns. I imagine someone casing my home, determining its vulnerability. I obsessively imagine Amanda Blackburn’s encounter with her attackers. They have invaded my house every day since they broke into hers.

__________

Sunday night we scurried from a scrumptious dinner at an Indian restaurant to the theater across town just in time to catch the previews before Mockingjay, Part II. We dashed about, speed walking, and camped in perfect seats with our friends before the opening scene, giggling and giddy with anticipation, tickled to be kid-free and on a double date.

But when a character stuck a gun under Katniss’ chin, a panic flared in my gut.

And then a fellow moviegoer’s need to head to the restroom painted Paris all over me. My breathing shallowed and I was flush with a hot sweat.

I am afraid of seeing evil in the eyes of another.

__________

And for the first time, jail ministry has frightened me. After all, the inmates I’m in relationship with aren’t there for yanking the tags off mattresses. Recidivism is real.

Your enemy wants to handicap your love, He said.

I know……..but how is murder Your best for anybody?

I don’t get it.

I don’t author evil, He said.

I am incapable of sanctioning it.

__________

I was against allowing refugees into the Unites States.

Did I think refugees were terrorists? Absolutely not.

Did I think Muslims were terrorists? No.

Did I think terrorists could potentially hijack the sanctuary of refugees to advance their cause? I did.

There is inconsistency in your passion, He said.

You mean, how can I beat the drum of the marginalized and not have a heart for refugees?

Fear. That’s how.

Love trumps fear, He said.

Love trumps fear, I agreed.

I do now believe we should admit refugees to the US; I do believe we are under a Biblical mandate to assist the oppressed, but I needed a little grace to get there.

I’d like to think fear doesn’t make me a bad person. It makes me a mama with an unhealthy worry over her children. It makes me a human with a clenched fist around safety as an idol. It makes me an advocate tempted to coddle fear instead of pressing into boldness.

But I’m working on it.

It means I may love with wobbly knees, but this is me dragging the thing into the light.

Remaining free is a hard business. The weaknesses that threaten to sideline us are always at hand.

And when you write a Bible study extolling God’s goodness, His faithfulness and His safety, He makes sure you’re not a liar. That those Truths live in your belly, not just on your tongue.

Freeing Truth to Fight Fear

God is absolutely incapable of evil. He doesn’t need it to accomplish His purposes. Evil occurs because we live in a broken world full of broken people. (1 John 1:5)
God can use circumstances created by evil to accomplish great things. (Genesis 50:20)
God is angered by injustice. (Psalm 7:11)
God is always near. We don’t ever trod this messy dirt alone. (Psalm 62:5-8)
Our fears point to our idols. (Joshua 24:23)
We can be free of fear. (Phil 4:4-7)

So maybe I’ll pass on that side dish of panic on Thursday after all.

Free Stuff – As we prepare to launch the sale of Who’s Your Daddy? on December 1, we’re hosting Twelve Days of Giveaways on the Tenacious Grace Facebook page next week. Come back here on Monday to get all the scoop about how to win a bunch of free loot and kick off the month of December right.

Have the best Thanksgiving, friends.

[Feature Image: Freedom House]

November

The Smile of a Disposable Woman

marginalized women

A smile may be the most costly gift a woman has to offer.

I recently scribbled a message in a birthday card for a delightful young lady celebrating her 24th birthday. The cover was ornate, drawn by a friend, and the inside was filled with well wishes and love. The birthday girl spent her big day in jail. And given her charge, she may pass all of her remaining birthdays there.

I don’t know the circumstances of her life or the details surrounding the event that landed her in an orange jumpsuit. What I know of her is that she seems shy with bright eyes and a radiant smile. She is most often tucked in the fold of two older inmates I am especially fond of. We hug and cry and laugh and shoot straight and recite Scripture together each Sunday morning. All three are sitting under the heaviest of charges.

women

To the world, these ladies – with their mug shots and rap sheets – are disposable.

Most of the time I think, “It’s no wonder they are here. It’s absolutely no wonder…” And I even ponder, “Are we – to some degree – responsible? How have we reached down to the sector of disadvantage and loved like Jesus?” I’m not talking about episodes of charity; I’m talking about a commitment to deliverance.

This is the same weight I hauled back from Kenya. I was despondent for two months after my return. I was heartbroken by the likelihood that I would return to my middle class white girl ignorance. And I did. Mainly because I didn’t know what to do. How to be different in a world that defines hardship as having a PC instead of a Mac.

The problem is too big, I thought.

There isn’t enough money, I reasoned. Or enough time…

girl

But if I am honest I don’t think those excuses are going to hold water when we answer for our lives.

Something inside of me is broken for marginalized women. Disposable women. But my thing doesn’t have to be your thing.

God cares about orphans and widows, prisoners and the poor, the oppressed, the abused and the mourning. Pick one.

And I don’t think we get to throw money at an issue and feel released. Because if money were the answer, the wealthiest people in our society would be the healthiest. And that just isn’t so.

If we want to make a difference, we have to get out where it’s scary. And raw. And beautiful.

Jesus fought for the fringe.

He ministered to those in the margin.

He dignified the disposable.

girls

So as we wade into the the holiday season of gratitude and joy and peace, I’d like to suggest some ideas for a different kind of Christmas. The kind that might afford a smile to a disposable woman.

Buy Christmas gifts from organizations helping others. We’re going to spend the money anyway….why not choose gifts that directly benefit the disadvantaged?

Thistle Farms is a residential program in Nashville for those surviving abuse, addiction, trafficking, and prostitution. My daughter’s teachers are receiving candles poured and wicked by the ladies who benefit from this program. They sell an assortment of cool gift items, and my new favorite tee, “Love Heals,” came from TF.
Punjammies are on my own Santa list; they are pajama bottoms made by women in India who have escaped trafficking. Sudara also carries fun tees for girls, mamas, and dudes. And all purchases help keep women out of the sex trade.
This article highlights other brands fighting trafficking.
And if you are local to the lower part of SC, I direct you to De Baz in Hartsville. Your purchases can help empower women in Ethiopia, help fight poverty in Guatemala, support families in Ecuador, and provide income and safe work environments for women in Nepal – just to name a few.

de baz

Create a plan for getting involved as a family. Have a date night or family meeting at Starbucks – with red cups in hand – and discuss your passions and opportunities, do research and plan a next step.

Come alongside someone barely scrapping out an existence. Not so much where you supply Thanksgiving dinner and an overwhelming load of gifts. But where you invite them to your table. On a regular basis. A single mom. A teen mom. A struggling young couple. A widow. A divorced father. Get involved in their lives for the long haul. Build real relationships that provide legitimate support.
Get involved in the education of someone fighting for a chance. Education is a subversive attack on poverty.
Jump in at your local homeless shelter or soup kitchen and invest in people there on a regular basis. Hang out there on Tuesday nights and love them well. Help them make connections with job opportunities. Prepare and share a meal with them. Locals, Whosoever Community Church would love to have you there building relationships, especially since resident numbers will spike with the colder temperatures.

beautiful smile

PS. If this is going to be a difficult holiday season, I double dog strongly encourage you to dive in to helping someone else. On some of my darkest days of depression, I forced myself – quite unwillingly – to get up and help someone outside of my family. It is medicine.

Send some dollars outside of the US to help efforts abroad and to tender your heart for the world. There are tons of organizations doing great work all over the globe; you’ll encounter no shortage there. I personally know the world changer, Rachel Keefe, and know her to be an amazing steward of God’s call on her life. If you choose to donate, you will enable her to continue doing ministry – loving on beautiful kiddos in Addis Ababa, Ethiopia. You can best follow her heart and her journey on Facebook.

vietnamese smiling

And I know the final point is a jarring conclusion to this list but, to me, it’s so in line with the heart of this post.

Please stop supporting the porn industry. Porn addiction has become a quiet epidemic. Even in the church. Among men and women. My words are saturated in nothing but love and grace. My own sin is great. Ladies, I know you abhor the clutch this addiction has on you, but it will not fill the emptiness gnawing your insides.

Porn is sex trade.

Fellas, the girl on your screen is being sold. You are the buyer. I am aware that its an addictive tool used by Satan to dismantle your faith, to trap you in secrets and shame. But there’s also more at stake. There is no chance that in the little girl’s heart that still beats beneath the charade she likes what she’s doing. There was a juncture in her life where she felt she had no other choice. Even if it was when she was five and somebody decided her innocence was theirs for the taking.

Please do whatever it takes to be free. For your sake and hers.

smile