Tag: trafficking

Just a Moment

.Reading time 11 minutes.

My whole life I’ve learned that the whole of life can change in an instant. All it takes is a second. It’s one decision. One poor choice. One perfect moment. It’s meeting someone unexpected. Bumping into a human who will change the course of the rest of your life. It’s trusting a man who you should never have said hello to. Taking a walk with a stranger. Electing to walk home alone sober rather than wait for your drunken friends. Saying yes to going for a coffee with someone you hardly know. It’s getting sick. It’s deciding to persevere and keep going despite the odds. Life… it’s filled with so many “moments” and it’s steered us to where we are in this very moment. 

My 7-week old baby lies against my chest. Fast asleep. He breathes deep, occasionally twitching, smiling, grunting and then peace and quiet returns. His rhythmic breathing pushing down against me feels so calming. They say skin to skin regulates a baby, but honestly I think it regulates me just as much. I feel utterly exhausted. Seven weeks of barely any sleep. Husband working non-stop, including weekends as he finishes work-ups for deployment. They say parenting can be lonely, well this week I’ve really felt that for the first time. But despite the loneliness and the sleep deprivation and the deep urge for some of my old life to return… I wouldn’t change any of it. This “moment”, this moment right here has been one I have prayed for and hoped for and longed for – more than anything else in my entire life. The moment Asher was born my heart split open in a way I NEVER knew was possible. Yes, people have always told me about this love that is unexplainable. But let’s be real for a second… unless you actually experience it for yourself, you’re never going to even slightly understand what they’re talking about. And then Asher happened. And suddenly everything I’d ever heard anyone say about this love, this feeling, this moment… just like that, it all made sense. 

I look at his perfect little face. His long eye lashes. The little hairs on his head. His tiny lips. This moment… this boy… this miracle… every other moment in my life had to happen for THIS monumental moment to come to pass. Overwhelming feelings and emotions start to build up as I see snapshots of my entire life flash before me. Me as a young child, my family, my siblings, my parents. I remember happiness and light. Vacations and trips. School, sport, homework, friends. And then I see my 12-year-old self standing in that shower for hours trying to wash off the innocence that man had taken from her. An event that would change everything forever. I see the bright young girl fade away slowly, piece by piece. I see her find alcohol as a comfort until it no longer comforts enough. I see the instant drugs are introduced, the wrong friends are welcomed in and then the eye contact made between her and her trafficker. One moment. It’s all it took. I see decisions that took away the chance to go to the olympics. I see so much pain and torture and hurt that young girl had to walk through, all because she sought validation from a man who would almost completely ruin her. I see instances where she completely gave up but thankfully others stepped in, moments where her life almost ended so many times. I watch hope unfold only to be dashed all over again. Anger, hurt, pain… they fill so many pockets of years of moments, and yet so many periods of joy and success are sprinkled throughout. I see her meet her husband, and smile as one of her greatest miracles unfolds. I watch many more hard years transpire as they start trying for a child, only to be met by unimaginable disappointment month after month, which eventually turns into year after year. I watch her finally find out she’s pregnant, only to experience a horrendous miscarriage just a few months later. I see the tears. I see her begging God to save the child they waited for so long. I see her crumble to her knees when she realizes that miracle won’t survive. I watch her go through surgery to remove the very gift they had prayed for and then I watch the agonizing months that follow as she fights for her life from a hospital bed. 

So many moments. Too many to recall. Too many to write down. And yet each one had to happen for me to end up right here. I look down at his perfect little face… I would re-live all of it in a heartbeat for him. 

As I sit in my rocking chair, Asher remains fast asleep against my chest. I should put him down for a proper nap, but right now I don’t care. Five and a half years of waiting for him, I’m going to soak up every little moment I can. Because that’s all it is. They’re moments. The moments of him being this tiny will be gone before I know it. The moments of feeling isolated and lonely will pass. The sleep deprivation won’t last. These precious and incredibly intimate moments I get to experience with my son during the deep hours of the night, will soon be just a fleeting memory. Just like everything else… it doesn’t last. 

Each moment gets us to where we are today. But we have to remember, they are only moments. I’ve walked through seasons that have felt like I literally lived in hell. And now I feel like there are times where my life couldn’t be better in any way. MOMENTS. They shift and they mold, they’re moving and adjusting constantly. 

A few weeks ago after being discharged from the hospital with Asher, I ended up right back in the hospital a week later. A postpartum infection… but within days my crazy, unknown, undiagnosed autoimmune ‘thing’ started attacking my body again. Everything inside of me wanted to go into straight panic. Last year this thing almost killed me. This year I have a son. I have a baby who is fully dependent on me. When my oxygen started dropping and I lost the ability to walk again… I can’t explain the fear that wanted to take over my entire mind. My heart had exploded open with love in a way I had never experienced before. But with that came an unimaginable protection for this little boy. I couldn’t go through this again. And as I lay in the ICU, staring at my beautiful, helpless, innocent little baby, I made a decision that this was also just going to be a “moment” and it would pass. I knew deep down that my journey to becoming a mom was not ending with Asher being just a few days old.

Life… the whole of life… it’s made up of moments. Every single one of us is walking through something right now. Whether it’s good, bad, great, awful, incredible or impossible. We’ve all experienced a little of all of it. Today I want to encourage you that if it’s hard, if it’s painful, if it seems never-ending… it will end. It will change. Moments can seem like an eternity but in a blink of an eye – it’s gone. It’s over. Finished. 

I never thought there was a whole life waiting for me beyond the prison walls of my past. And though there have continued to be heartaches and seasons of grief, intense hardships and enormous tragedy, I have encountered breathtaking epiphanies in the midst of it all. In the moments of stillness I see the incredible beauty that’s been able to emerge from the chaos and the tears. Moments, that without the impossible, would have never led me to my present right here. So whatever it is… keep going. Keep moving. Keep believing. Because life can change in an instant and you don’t want to miss the moment it happens. 

INTO THE UNKNOWN

.Reading time 11 minutes.

There’s a saying out there that I’m sure most of us are pretty familiar with. It goes a little like this… “Life begins at the end of your comfort zone.” The man behind this very famous quote is Neale Donald Walsch. Why would he come up with a quote like that? Honestly… I’m not entirely sure I agree with it! Life BEGINS at the end of your comfort zone?! Most of the time it feels like life ends or it starts hanging on by a thread when you enter into the discomfort zone. It definitely doesn’t feel like it begins. I look back at some of the hardest times in my life and it most certainly wasn’t pleasant, enjoyable or even at times “worth living”. And yet this quote intrigues me. What does it really mean?

I open up a browser on my laptop and type in “Neale Donald Walsch… who is he?” Wikipedia pops us. A catholic man on a quest for spiritual truth. Actor, screenwriter, and speaker. I scan the page and stop about half way down. In the early 1990s he suffered a series of crushing blows. A fire destroyed all of his belongings, his marriage fell apart, and a car accident left him with a broken neck. He ended up alone, unemployed and homeless. Living out of a tent, he collected and recycled aluminum cans just so he could eat. It was out of this complete desperation and during this all-time low that he started writing. His first book “Conversations with God” became an international best-seller and remained on the New York Times Bestseller List for 135 weeks! He has since published 28 books, which have been translated into 37 languages. Today he has a net worth of over 52 million.

I pause… wow. I hadn’t quite expected that. I assumed some rich old philosopher had once upon a time come up with this quote because it sounded wise. Felt good. Wrote it down without much thought behind it. And yet the truth behind this quote was actually far from it. 

“Life begins at the end of your comfort zone.” Suddenly the quote takes on a whole new meaning. A man who once lived in a tent, with almost nothing to eat, no friends, no family, no belongings, no comfort… he had been ripped away from comfort and entered into complete discomfort. And yet this very season of discomfort would bring him his greatest success, purpose and triumph. 

I look through the window of my office and stare out through the trees to the bright blue sky above. Not a cloud to be seen. No wind. No movement. Just quiet. Still. Maybe the quote isn’t as far fetched as I once thought. I think back to my hardest days as a teenager. My trafficking days. Days which turned into years, years which I didn’t think would ever end. Trapped in a cycle of addiction, abuse, pain and pure evil. It most certainly didn’t feel like my life had begun. And yet now looking back it’s exactly where it had started. “Life begins at the end of your comfort zone”. It doesn’t say “life get’s good at the end of your comfort zone”. No. It says it begins. It begins because eventually we can look back and realize we’re where we’re at BECAUSE of that beginning. For Mr Walsch his life wasn’t milk and honey, flowers and paradise… so far from it. Homeless, alone, hungry, desperate… THAT’S where his life started. Away from all comfort, everything he knew. It was in THAT moment that he could be used for his full purpose. To his full potential. If his marriage had survived, if his house hadn’t burnt down, if he hadn’t broken his neck… would he have ever gotten to such a place of desperation to where he wrote a number 1 international bestselling book? I’m gonna take a guess and say NO! He needed his comfort to end so that he could start the life he was supposed to live. 

I rub my belly. Baby boy is kicking. I’ll be 26 weeks pregnant this week. Pregnancy has been so tough. I’ve felt awful for most of the last 6 months. There’s been a lot of pain, so much discomfort. Have just felt rough, most days. And yet this miracle… it still leaves me speechless. I think of the journey it’s been. The five years of infertility. All the horrendous procedures, triggering appointments. The miscarriage. Weeks of hospitalization. Having to rebuild my whole body. And yet here I am, 26 weeks pregnant, with a healthy, growing, kicking, baby boy living inside of me. A dream I never thought would come to pass. I’m experiencing the reality of that dream happening right now. Life begins at the end of your comfort zone. The moment I fell pregnant I entered into a whole new season of leaving comfort behind. Again. But I know in a few months time when I’m holding my beautiful baby boy in my arms, it would have all been worth it. Every moment of discomfort. Every moment of pain and exhaustion. 

Had I never been trafficked I would never be doing the job I get to do today. Had I never walked through the different seasons of trials and pain, I wouldn’t know the people I do. I wouldn’t be married to Ryan. I wouldn’t be living in America. I wouldn’t be living this life. I wouldn’t be who I am right now. Comfort looks amazing. And it feels great. But it doesn’t ever push us to leave, or change, get better or try something new. During my most desperate times I’ve seen the most growth. Through the deepest pain I’ve experienced the most profound healing and developed the most real and authentic relationships. Out of my greatest hardships, unbelievable purpose was born. 

It’s scary walking into the unknown. Whether we are pushed into it unexpectedly, walk into it by choice or emergency crash land right into the heart of it… discomfort never feels good. The unknown is scary, unfamiliar, at times lonely and isolating, it can feel unsafe and disconcerting. Many of us run away from it, most do whatever they can to avoid it. Sometimes you can, most of the time you can’t. But even when you can, what opportunities are you missing? And when you can’t, how are we choosing to handle the uncertainty around us? 

When I moved to America 7 years ago I cried on the plane. I was leaving behind all I knew. Family, friends, work, everything familiar, everything I’d ever known… 4000 miles away. I was terrified to start over. Fearful of finding new friends, a whole new community, work. I had married the man I loved but had to leave everything else behind to be with him. Life starts at the end of your comfort zone. 7 years ago I cried thinking I could never build a better life than I already had. I was so wrong. It took being uncomfortable for a while and stepping fully into the unknown to build something bigger and better than I could have ever imagined possible. 

Whatever place you’re in right now. However uncomfortable, unfamiliar, unknown… remind yourself today that the unknown doesn’t last. The emotions don’t stay. The feelings, they pass. I can look back at every single difficult moment I’ve had to walk through and can see something better that was born because of it. There’s a purpose you need to fill, a task you need to accomplish, a dream that can only come to pass by walking into the unknown… by persevering through the pain. Life begins at the end of your comfort zone. Keep going, keep fighting and keep moving forward.