Against the current

 I get the most unusual thoughts popping in my head at the most unexpected times. We just went through a hurricane. Well, we didn't get the full brunt of the storm but we sure felt its impact. My neighborhood looks exactly how I picture a place when I hear people say "it looks like a hurricane went through it". We have lots of fallen trees, my gutter is hanging by its side and our mailbox was knocked out by winds. And yet, we are lucky, so very lucky. We are alive and, all in all, we can still say that we have a place to stay, which is not the case for so many others. So many in the Caribbean and right here, in the Florida Keys, are homeless right now. And yes, unfortunately there were loss of lives as well. 😥😔😔 So in comparison, well, we are OK.
So I started sifting through those thoughts and not sure why, got to social expectations and the pressure of living up to them. For instance, I thought about the dress I picked out to wear at church today. It's a simple, summer style black maxi dress, with beautiful blue-green flower prints. I actually love that dress and only wear it when I'm doing something a little special. Today, I was rushing so I grabbed it because it was right there and I didn't want to be late. That dress has seen its share of social media pictures. I've worn it on several occasions and since I love to capture moments on camera, I'm pretty sure it's been displayed a few times. And even though I knew to fight against it, I started thinking, if I take a picture in that dress today, some people will comment, "here goes that same little dress again."  I don't think the people who make the comments are mean; most of them are probably not. It's just that society and trends and, unspoken rules have conditioned us, all of us, me included, to think that way. I'm aware of those thoughts. I'm aware that people probably have them sometimes when they survey me from head to toe.  But I've come not to care about it as much. It's not that other people's opinion of me does not matter. I'm not there yet. But I try to go against the current.
I can go with the same purse for weeks at a time because it's comfortable, practical, even though I have fancier, more expensive, brand-name purses strewn about my room and closet. Friends have teased me about that: "It's time to retire that purse". But I like that purse. For the time being, it fits the purpose so what does it matter, whether I use it a lot or not? Yes, sometimes, I use stuff when they're starting to get worn out. OK. I admit to it but to me, cleanliness matters a lot more, you know?
Plus, it's just not on the top of my list of priorities. I follow those norms, those unspoken rules that make us judge each other so harshly when we break them, if we dare to but every day? I don't have the energy to care that much about it.
My energy is spent mostly on trying to make it every day, on trying to deal with everything that's on my plate, served by a very capricious life. I use my energy to pray for courage and sustenance, to ask for more faith and patience, less fear. I just can't find enough interest left in keeping up with "when was the last time they saw me with that dress?" type of deal, all the time. I can't. I care, just not that much.
And I'm not sure people understand. See, when you deal with life or death situations, when those situations involve your direct family, everything changes. Your focus shifts from the superficial to the spiritual, the inner self and, your whole axis of perception tilts away from the mundane towards more profound, meaningful things in life. You want to live, to breathe, to be happy. You want to fight for what's right, for what truly matters. You start examining your purpose and whether you are making an impact. And what would your legacy be if you were to leave this world today. Those are the things that I consider now. Life, its purpose, connecting to others on a human, more personal level. And maybe that's what happened, what is happening to me. I'm  undergoing this transformation and I have no idea when the process will be complete nor how long it will take. But losing someone you love or, coming pretty close to, I think can have that effect on you. It had that effect on me. It's almost as if overnight, the world as I understood it, was realigned and things were reorganized, put in a new order. I suffered through it, more than doubled my weight, for instance, and that brought plenty of other ills and conditions but I do my best to confront and deal with it all. That's where my energy is these days. I'm not even sure I'm doing it right but that's what's taking up space in my head.
I still enjoy some of the same things yet, don't pursue them as vigorously. I still get tremendous joy out of listening to music yet, don't really find the time to do it for hours on end these days... That kind of thing. The things I love, the little things that make life more pleasurable are still there in my heart but they're not exactly way up there anymore.
So yes, I like fashion and enjoy experimenting with clothes but will brave society's ire and mockery if I want to wear something more than twice. I know what may be going on behind the stares but it just doesn't really make a huge difference. It matters, a little. bruises my ego, a little but not enough to make me stop. I'm going against the current, even if it means going against my own vanity.

We Are All Called To Walk Our Own Path

I haven't blogged in awhile because life has been crazy busy. I miss writing, miss this space where I come to write and reflect. Tonight, I felt compelled to write about life, choosing our path and confronting life. 
We are all called to walk our own path, to grow in strength in our own way. Each journey is unique, as unique as we are, as unique as our experiences are. Regardless of similarities,we confront our particular circumstances in a way that is very much our own. That is why I'm not surprised when even those closest to me, those who've known me my entire life even, may not completely relate to my reality, my way of handling that reality and the path I choose to take to confront that reality. Sometimes, if I'm being completely honest, sometimes my feelings get hurt but I know they all mean well, those who have been a part of my life since forever. So I've learned to accept without correcting or explaining. Sometimes it's better to just let things be... 
There is no one way, no one philosophy to adopt in order to grow, to learn, to find ourselves. It's an endeavor that may very well take a lifetime, right? And, maybe, if we're lucky we do get to learn, to grow and, to find those things that ground us, those things that allow us to defy the odds, to keep moving and living in the face of great adversity. I believe in being authentic, in acknowledging my feelings, the good, the bad and the ugly. And who knows? Maybe that's why I'm able to always go back to joy, to finding it, to living with it even as I struggle to balance the many challenges in my life. That's me. That's my way. For others, growth may come from a special encounter, a guru, a newfound passion, an adopted philosophy. I don't believe that one way, one philosophy is necessarily better than another. For some people, a mix of many different philosophies might actually be what works. I mean, why deny the benefits of a particular lifestyle, approach, strategy or philosophy? The important thing is to keep growing, to keep moving forward, to keep learning. I'm for anything that does not consume the self, anything that leads to a healthier, better, self. And there are many ways to get there. As far as I'm concerned, there's no need to proclaim one way as "THE" way because it's not. We know that. We know that what works so well for one may completely bomb for another. Instead of competing or judging or, doing whatever it is that we do once we feel we have it figured out, let's just put it out there. Share it. Share what it is we are doing that is helping us feel grounded, share what we do to find our "center". Because we all do it our way. All of us growing and learning, maturing... We are doing it our way. As long as our way makes us better, stronger, healthier individuals, our way I think, may just be the best way for us. 

Rough Ride

Yes Folks, I've been having a hard go at this thing called life. In the summer of 2015, I was flying on cloud nine, excited for my son who had just completed his last year of elementary school, had managed to go on an over-night trip with his class with no parents (that was huge!), had snatched a date for his fifth grade dance and was really, really excited about going to middle school. It lasted until about January.
Early in the school year, it became apparent that my son's teachers and maybe, possibly the school leadership team, did not think he was a good fit for their school.  Mind you, I had done a ton of research about the school that would be the best fit for my kid, knowing his challenges but also, having just experienced the level of success he was capable of achieving when properly supported. I visited different schools, heard from different people, weighted the pros and cons of different schools, I really thought this through. In fact, it took me so long to decide that the elementary school called to ask where they should send my son's records. Somehow, things did not work out the way I had expected them to. I became increasingly worried about my kid and about whether his educational needs were being properly addressed by some of his teachers.  By March, I knew we had a problem when the school leadership team told me they would be recommending retention.  For this, they cited a new state law that requires all students, even the ones who learn differently because of their special needs, to meet specific criteria for promotion and there laid the hurdle.  I was livid!!! I was literally livid!
My kid had spent the last 7 years at one school where, through advocacy and compromise, he was able to grow, to strive and learn. I imagined the transition to middle school would be hard, I fully expected new challenges but did not expect the new school to be this insensitive to a student's need, especially one who, being on the autism spectrum required more time and a different approach to adapt to a new environment.
So I did what I usually do when I don't think my kid is being treated fairly.  I embarked on a fight with the school leadership.  I reached out to state organizations, sought legal counsel, I fought! And this fight is kind of not over. I lost the first part of the fight. I filed a formal complaint and part of it was addressed. The other part is still pending and I'm not sure at this point whether I want to follow through.
I took my kid out of the school system he's been a part of for the last 8 years. I felt duped and misunderstood. I felt let down by the very people who claimed to be working for all students. I'm not sure who those students are but my kid sure did not benefit from their efforts.
Before that fight, before even starting middle school, my son had to go to Cincinnati Children's for one of his overnight, same-day surgery visits. He had developed some breathing irregularities and upon speaking to members of his medical team, I was told it was better that I bring him to them so I did. That's a part of our lives; that's the way things are; that's our normal. But it was not a planned trip and it happened right before school. A few weeks later, he had to follow-up with another surgery and this one was done out of town but in state. So yes, I was dealing with a lot even before the middle-school crisis had started.
Besides all of this, besides these truly intense and emotionally-draining events, I was also trying to complete my doctoral courses. This past summer, I took the last two classes for the doctoral program I've been enrolled in since 2014 and that too, was daunting. It was maybe one of the hardest balancing acts I've had to do in a long while and it was stressful, nowhere near as stressful as what I was dealing with for my son but stressful nonetheless. A little bit of good news came from that front though: I passed my last two classes with an A and can now focus on completing the dissertation and that in itself is pretty time-consuming.
No, I'm not singing the "woe is me" song but it's just been a lot this past year. A whole lot.
So how did this fight with my son's school end? Well, as I mentioned earlier, made a bold decision: I decided to take a break from the school system he was enrolled in and opted for something different. Yep. I pulled him out. I seriously considered homeschooling, I really did. And I'm pausing there a bit because I in fact don't really think homeschooling is the best choice for educating kids, not unless parents make a conscious effort to add a social component. I believe in teaching the whole child but I digress. I considered homeschooling but discarded the idea because it did not offer opportunities for social interactions. I'm not a stay-at-home mom and my husband is not a stay-at-home-dad although he does have more flexibility these days; but that can change anytime so couldn't count on him really. My next step was to start investigating other types of school. I remember sitting on the couch in the family room and praying to God "I just want a place that is nurturing, a place that will give me peace of mind" I whispered. At the time, I had nothing in mind. I had just left a very long meeting where I had indicated my intention to withdraw my son from the school and I was drained. I had a good cry after that meeting. I insisted on going to lunch with my family right after hoping it would lift my spirits but I still had a pounding headache by the time I got home. I think it was all the tension that I had kept in check throughout the day. Sometimes, it's good to just let it go and cry.
By then, I had already started looking at different places, had already started calling around to different schools and had started to get some hope of an alternative. I was scared, really scared that I was doing the wrong thing but my kid was really, really upset at the idea of having to repeat the grade. I tried to approach the topic from different angles during summer break. I told him about people we knew, other kids who would be going there in the fall, wondered out loud if it would be so bad to repeat and I did so knowing from the research that 6th grade retention was cited as the most traumatic event in a child's life after going blind and the death of a parent. That was actually one of the reasons I decided to fight this decision. Not only did I not believe it was fair to expect my autistic son to adapt to middle-school in record time when it is hard for all kids to do so, I did not want him to be marked by this. I did not know, could not know what he was really thinking most of the times so when he did express his fears and feelings towards the situation, I listened.  There were also other little signs: I ran into someone who knew my son and had worked with him and she urged us, my husband and me, not to give up on him. There were also the many conversations I had with different experts whose opinion indicated that my son's needs were not properly addressed. But above all, it was because of my son, because of his feelings that I chose to leave the traditional school system. My kid is complicated. His story is not just one of autism. Maybe he needed something else, something that could not be found in the current environment he was in. Or maybe I was just tired and needed a break. I've been fighting for my kid since he started attending the traditional schools when he was 4 years old. He turned 13 in March. And this was an all-out fight. Maybe I needed to step back, regroup and clear my head. I'm not writing traditional school off. I'm not taking anything off the table but for now, while my son is dealing with the challenges of growing up and becoming a teenager, I'm willing to try something different.
And so, that's how it's been folks. It's been a grueling, crazy, rough ride this past year. My body reacted in a very dramatic way.  In October, I noticed that just like that, one side of my hair was much shorter than the other, I mean, significantly shorter. I don't really make a big deal of it because so many people go through worst because of diseases ravaging their bodies. But yes, that was one obvious physical reaction. With all the upheavals, my health journey took a hit, too. I didn't stop. I don't intend to but, when you commit to healthier lifestyle and nutrition, you need time to focus and, as I just explained, time to focus on anything else but what was happening to my kid was scarce. I managed to keep up with moving until August. Then I injured my shoulder and had to take a break but little by little I'm getting active again. I kept up with my food journal and I'm glad I at least did that.
Whew! I think I've finally caught up with myself. I feel like I should be sobbing right now, just heaved a really deep, belly shaking sigh but no cry. Go figure!
And life goes on. We're dealing with other challenges in our lives just like many other families around us but we're still standing. Given the circumstances, I think it's a blessing. My son is at a new school, moved on to 7th grade where he's been doing surprising well. I'm keeping my fingers crossed. But to be clear, it was never about not repeating a grade; it was about preventing something that could have marked my son for the rest of his life. Maybe I'm being dramatic but I don't care. As I tried to explain to the powers that be: if after the first year of middle school, in the second or third year, I was told that my kid needed to repeat, that would have been OK. Because it wasn't 7th or 8th grade that was cited as the most traumatic event of a child's life after going blind or losing a parent, it was 6th grade. And given the poor transition and lack of support my kid got when he was in 6th grade... No, I did not want to risk it.
I'm his mom and I will always, always do my darnest best to protect him. 

I Take Life In and React to It All

I'm not in the habit of hiding my struggles, especially not when it comes to my son and the challenges he faces as an individual on the autism spectrum. That’s why I created a blog devoted just to him.  You can visit it @ http://raisingcrl.blogspot.com/.  Having said that, I certainly don't feel limited to just that. I take life in and react to it all. This philosophy has served me well in all of my years. Faith has sustained me through the shock waves and emotional roller coaster. Talking and writing about my struggles have gotten people's attention, raised awareness and provided much needed, much appreciated support.  I believe it's important to be informed and to understand what the issues are and what's at stake for each one of us. I equally think it's just as important to take the time to live life, to enjoy it, to laugh and to discover beauty in unexpected places.  I enjoy going out, spending time with friends and family, reading, writing, dancing, and listening to music.  I like to experience the energy that comes from being in a crowd, moving to the rhythm of a song, cheering for a team or, supporting a cause.  I find it extremely revitalizing.  I like to participate in community events, street festivals, fairs; anything that speaks of life, I usually go for.  I’m interested in fashion trends and like to know what’s going on.  But with all of this or, should I say, before all of this, I recognize the role that my faith in God plays in my life.  I’ve said this before and I’ll probably say it again: Faith is the driving force that keeps me going.  I really believe it’s the reason I’m able to have so much joy despite the challenges, the very serious challenges that I’ve faced over the years.  And believe me, these challenges were/are no joke! I live life as fully as I can, not to show people that I’m here and that I’m surviving but because I do love life.  I really enjoy having a good time. People who know me can attest to that.  Well, we all have our definitions of what a good time is; for me, it’s a genuine, feel good experience that comes from just being present in the moment.  Last but not least, I should add that I’ve always tried to be true to who I am, all of who I am. I’m this girl who was raised catholic, and had to really do some soul-searching before deciding whether this was the right path for her; this girl who was born and raised in Haiti, whose Caribbean culture is an integral part of who she is and who is not willing to give it up under any circumstances.  this girl who came to the United States at the beginning of her college years, who didn’t hold back when it came to exploring and understanding the differences between her new home and her childhood one and  is now comfortable referring to herself as Haitian-American.  I fight hard to be that person, that authentic version of myself.  I don’t really like the idea of being associated with just one issue, one idea, and one main topic.  I certainly use my voice to raise awareness for those issues that directly impact my life,  autism being one of the main ones because I have a son whom I love with all my heart who is on the autism spectrum disorder.  However, I speak just as loudly if not as often to bring attention to issues of inequality: Racial, ethnic, religious and gender inequality. I think women need to be treated better and be given more opportunities.  The same goes for minority groups; I see too many instances where people with stellar qualifications are passed over for a position because of who they are. It sucks. Sometimes, my words make people uncomfortable because they don’t expect me to talk so plainly about discrimination and racism.  I’m not going to pretend they do not exist when I’ve been on the receiving end of both; so has my family.  These issues speak to me so I will write about them as well, will discuss them on my blog and other social networks.  I won’t engage in political banter but I have my views and once in a while, I will express them clearly.  That’s me. That’s who I am and what I’m about.  I’m a woman going through the journey who chooses to share bits and pieces of her life with the outside world.  

Becoming The Mother He Needs Me To Be

People who meet me as a parent are always surprised at my tenacity.  When I react to something that I don't agree with, or decide on a course of actions, they act like "Whoa, where did that come from?" But why?  I'm just one of millions of parents who do what needs to be done every day for their kids.  What's so surprising about that?  But if they knew me, knew my story, maybe they would understand.  I'm the girl who refused to listen when the priest came to the chapel where I was praying that fateful night the hospital called us my husband and I, to say that it didn't look like our son was going to make it. He was trying to tell me that I needed to accept God's will but I refused to listen to him and instead, turned directly to the altar and kept praying. I was determined to fight for my kid and although, it looked like the the end was near, I didn't just sit around and waited for it to come.  I didn't want my son to die and my faith taught me that, when it looks like all is lost, you call God.  I wasn't going to accept this diagnosis without a fight.  I still remember how I felt that night and what I was thinking. "As long as my son is still breathing, I'm going to keep praying and keep asking God to spare his life". And boy did I pray!!! I prayed hard! I prayed completely inhibited because I was desperate. I knew this was a desperate situation. I had already been told but I loved my baby and wanted nothing more than to see him live.  This moment was like walking through a ring of fire. In my mind, I was saying "it ain't over until it's actually over.  No matter what the doctors and nurses said, as long as my baby is still breathing, it's not over so I'm going to keep on praying and crying and begging God for my son to live until there's no more reason to pray!" Thank God, I didn't need to get to that point. My son made it through that night ( I really hate thinking about that night). I can't even get past that moment to work on my next book but that's another story for another post.  Let's get back to this one.  So when people are surprised at my tenacity, at how hard I fight for my son, they should understand one thing:  I'm not going to give up.  I'm going to keep fighting for him, for his well-being, for his chance at independence and at living a good life. They need to understand what I went through and where I'm coming from to truly understand how I became the mother, the woman I am today and, why I don't just accept platitudes and excuses.  I'm the girl who doesn't back down, the girl who doesn't stop trying, doesn't stop fighting to get her son what she feels he needs to get better, to move ahead. I will always choose to fight until there's no more reason to fight, but until then, fight I will. My son has taught me to be persistent, to be bold and to seek answers. He needed me to become that mother. I didn't see it right away but it got clearer as time went on.  So now, when I have something to take care of, especially when it comes to my kid, I don't give up. If people try to write him off, to portray him as something he's not, as less than he is simply because they don't understand his needs, or sadly, because they do not want to take the time to get to know him, do not want to really help him, I speak up. I do not accept preconceived ideas and judgmental attitudes and I can smell them a mile away.  I'm the girl who makes phone calls, seeks information, researches the problem.  I talk to people, voice my concerns, ask questions and ask for help, too.  I don't always get what I want, what I hope for but it doesn't cross my mind one minute not to to try.  If one thing doesn't pan out, I try another. If one person doesn't listen or doesn't help, I keep trying, keep looking until I find someone who will listen because I've learned to do that: Not to give up until there's no other choice but to give in. I didn't think I had it in me. But apparently I do. By the grace of God, I do. 

Easter Reflections

Easter always brings me so much joy. It's really the culmination of my Christian faith, of its core beliefs. And where would I be without my faith? How many times have I come close to giving up hope, of despairing only to get back up and keep fighting the good fight because I have faith?  Listen, you may not believe what I believe and that's fine. I'm not here to tell you what to believe and how to live your life but I am sharing with you what brings me peace and gives me joy.  So whether you are of the Christian faith or not, believe in God or not, I urge you to find that something.  Find that something that fills you with a sense of peace and, when you do find it, hold on to it, cultivate it and nurture it and you will be surprised to see how much more grounded it makes you, how much more joy you find in everyday things.  So my message to you on this Easter Sunday is to find that something that fills you with a sense of peace, gives you hope and creates joy in your heart.  

I'm happy to have found mine. I'm grateful for the gift of faith that I've had since I was a little girl.  I'm in no way an expert, do not have what others call a prophetic faith but I cultivate a simple, strong and steady faith in God.  It doesn't mean that I don't get mad, angry or tired or, that I don't wonder why my life has been so full of trials and tribulations but, faith allows me to go on, to look past all the hurts, the anxiety and the stress and, to look for reasons to smiles, to be grateful.  It allows me to understand and feel other people's pain, to show compassion.  It helps me acknowledge my conscience, to hear that little voice in my head that cautions me when I'm about to embark on a dangerous path.  It doesn't make me a saint at all but it is a great ally on this journey full of uncertainties.  It allows me to feel connected to others, despite our differences, to think about ideas and examine messages from a different perspective.  Because of my faith, I remain optimistic about humanity and believe in the impossible, in the good that cannot be explained or justified.  I believe in miracles, in angels, both the ones traditionally described in story books and the ones who cross our paths as regular people.  Yes, I am very naive in some aspects but it hasn't really hurt me.  I'm still a fighter; I still speak up and take on fights that by all accounts are lost before they are even begun but that doesn't stop me from trying.  I struggle to understand the purpose behind a people's plea, individual sufferings but it doesn't turn me away from God.  Do I question all of that?  Of course I do! Sometimes I am perplexed by all I am witnessing: The hate, the selfishness, the cruelty but that, I tell myself, is not what I believe.  There are people who may use the name of God to justify hate, divisiveness and violence but I don't believe God condones any of these things.  I think people try to manipulate His message to fit their own narratives but I'm always careful about following any one person.  I know there are arguments against Christianity just like there are some against other faiths but I hold on to the basic tenets of Jesus' message:  Love and compassion.  That's it. These two ideas make up the core of my beliefs in the Christian faith.  Everything else is circumstantial and open to interpretations but whenever I'm in doubt, whenever I have questions, I go back to those two basic elements: Love and compassion.  Happy Easter Friends!

Miami Book Fair The Big Read Miami 2016 @Big Night in Little Haiti March...

Friday Evening, March 18th of 2016 was really special.  I was in great
company as part of a panel of Haitian-American authors invited to share
their stories under the sponsorship of The Miami Book Fair Big Read
initiative. The theme was immigration, immigrant experience and, so all
of us authors, shared pieces that reflected our immigrant experiences. 
It truly was a most delightful evening.  The star author, whose book,
Brother I'm Dying, is being featured during The Big Read campaign,
Edwidge Danticat, was also in attendance.  I was able to meet her and we
even exchanged a few words.  She was warm, welcoming, encouraging words
and even offered some words of advice to help me get over my fear of
emotional breakdown as I try to write my son's story.  This truly was a
very special evening. 

A love that endures.

In honor of Valentine's Day, I wrote up a short piece to describe this eluding feeling called love. Of course, this is just my idea of love for, I'm sure, there are as many different definitions of love as there are people walking on the face of this earth. So I wrote about love. I didn't really want to make it sound all pretty and nice and all of that. I wanted to write from a place of authenticity, a place that felt real to me  so to this effect, I tried to think, really think about what I've come to consider love to be.  I didn't want to write about the sappy, puppy-eyed type of love but, about a love that endures, the one that stands the test of time, of life's challenges and tribulations.
I know love grows and changes, goes through stages.  At first, it's all consuming, gets you all in knots and causes your heart to skip a beat or two. You're at the head-over-hills in love, can't get enough of each other stage but then, if you're lucky enough, if it lasts long enough, these feelings grow into something more; they become the type of love that is solid, powerful and consistent; they blossom into an enduring, nurturing emotion:  The kind of love you can depend on, the kind of love that makes you rush home to tell someone about your day, to share your upsets and your shines, your impressions, your opinions.  It's good to have this kind of love, too. It's also the kind of love that makes you stay when life makes you feel like running, the kind of love that turns into devotion. The love you feel for someone, whether a spouse, partner, child or children, family member(s) that gives you the strength to fight and support dreams that are not yours. It's the kind of love that pushes you to take care of a sick loved one, to look after the ones who are vulnerable, to fight for their rights to live a good life. That's the love I've come to believe in and that's the kind of love I highlight in my new piece. So here it is:


A Love that Endures

A driving force, crazy feeling        
An emotion, aberration.                           
Inspiration and sensation,             
Uncontrollable attraction.
Racing heart, heated body.
This need to see, to touch, to hear
A longing for the one we miss.
A willingness to sacrifice,
To give up time, to find a way.
To twist and turn any which way
Just for a smile, just to see joy.
To push, encourage and support,
And stand close in a raging storm.
A gladness, a sense of rightness,
Thankfulness for the simplest things.
Watching life unfold side by side,
Eating a meal, drinking coffee.
Appreciating, savoring
The quiet times, the big moments.
Growing and learning, making waves
Having fun or crying out.
What a blessing, what a gift
How precious is love that endures.

By Rebecca N Carmant
February 13, 2016
All Rights Reserved

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