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The Beginning To an End

That night went pretty smooth despite the fact that I was having a secret anxiety attack the entire time. After everyone fell asleep, I laid in bed and cried, to be honest, I cried every single night for the next 2 weeks. I cried because I felt like something in me had died, like I lost something. I cried because it was also a reminder of what it felt like to go from the comfort of your home and all its familiarities to be moved miles and miles away from the people you love to live with someone whose face was familiar but at the end of the day was a stranger. I cried because here I was this child who’s mother freely and willingly gave her up to someone else. The one person in the world who is supposed to protect and comfort you, yet they can’t even hold a conversation with you. I cried because I know those feelings, those thoughts, this scenario, all too well.
I cried because here I was this 30-year-old woman with no kids only 2 dogs. My life had just begun as I finally got my life in order and now I am responsible for a 13-year-old child. I am all of a 5’3’ straight hair Latina and Serenity is a 5’9’, African American girl hiding under crochet braids. I was raised in one of the safest and richest cities while she was raised in one of the poorest and dangerous cities. How can I raise a troubled teen, how can I undo something that was built in 13 years? As my crying began to become a daily ritual, my prayers became a desperate plea. But despite all my selfish reasons to be crying the one thing I prayed for the most was, that if there is anything this child learns from living with us, is that she finds Christ and surrenders her life over to God because only God can do for her, what we can NOT.