10 Years...

Ten years ago today, we were kidnapped.

Taken across the border to Mexico - illegally - not knowing if either of us would see home alive again. And frankly, if my little sister didn't make it, I didn't want to either.

Ten years ago today, everything changed.

At 13 I became responsible in my own mind for my sister's survival.

For protecting both of us from the drunken & disturbed adults holding us in a foreign country with little food, no clean clothes, and facing the threat of death every moment.

For not making my Mom lose the only two people she still needed in a world that had betrayed her.

For somehow fighting back against what was happening without provoking their wrath.

For finding our way back to the U.S. from a country whose language we did not speak and people we did not know.

We didn't even know what state we were in half the time, let alone the time zone or distance to the border!

How we survived that month, I can only attribute to God.

Without Him, we'd be dead. Period. End of story.

Looking back, in some ways I cannot believe it's been ten years.

TEN YEARS!

A decade!

Yet in other ways... it's been a lifetime.

Because that's how long we will bear these scars. It's like my brain surgeries - no matter how well you heal, the scars will remain. They may fade over the years, and others may not even notice them after awhile, but you'll always know they're there, and you'll always know what it was like without them.

Being kidnapped is one of the defining parts of my life. As much as I hate that thought, because it gives them power I so desperately want taken away from them, it's the truth. And it's a VERY lonely road! I mean, seriously, how many people do YOU know that have been kidnapped?

A month of our lives stolen in some ways... all of our lives stolen in others.

And as I type this, they aren't in jail. No punishment at all, really, could be enough, but it'd be nice to feel that some sort of justice was done.

I guess that's why God is the judge & we aren't. Nothing humans can do will make what happened okay... but God makes all things right.

When my little sister was being tortured by classmates in junior high with teasing, did they realize that she'd already been tortured for a month in Mexico, and for all 11 of her years leading up to that point?

Did they realize that for every cruel word, she'd heard 100?
That for every evil glance, she'd never felt love in the eyes of the people who were supposed to love & protect her?
That for every time they pushed her, she'd had her head held under water, as I fought unsuccessfully to free her without being drowned myself?

Like I said, that month changed our lives.

Forever.

I'll never be the same.

But maybe... just maybe... that's a good thing.

Cuz after all, God makes it all okay.