Change from Within

It has always been my personal and profession passion to help effect change in others and in the world. The change I work towards is mostly external, helping and serving others. I find myself asking question like, "How can I change the system?" or "How can the world be different?" It sounds very lofty and altruistic. I'm beginning, however, to challenge myself to see how this type of journey can be pretty cowardly.

The more difficult journey is to be willing to admit when change needs to occur from within. To look at the lives we are leading and commit ourselves to change. That life change can take the form of making amends or it can mean requiring a fresh start for ourselves...more often it requires both.

And so I will begin.

World Premiere of Redlight Illuminates the Atrocities of Human Trafficking

On Monday I had the great fortune of attending the world premiere of Redlight in New York City. A documentary more than four years in the making, Redlight focuses on the survivors of human trafficking and the heroes who are fighting for justice for all children.

One of the women who was featured in the film is Mu Sochua. She is the opposition party leader in Cambodia and is a tireless fighter for the poor and vulnerable. For that, she is not celebrated but in constant fear of house arrest. She made a wonderful challenge to those there Monday evening: although we focus on the trials of one country, trafficking happens in every country. Human trafficking is the third largest criminal business and the fastest growing.

Attention and funding needs to come to the problems of human trafficking. Companies such as LexisNexis (fervent partners in the face against human trafficking) are uniquely positioned to be leaders in the new frontier against trafficking. We need laws to be changed--only 2 states have laws that protect children from being charged for prostitution. We need rescue and rehabilitation centers that provide real vocational and educational options for survivors. We need awareness, action and advocacy. Monday night gave me the hope to keep fighting for it!

Happy Father's Day

We don't do anything alone. We are formed by those who raise us and we are influenced by those around us. I am thankful everyday that the father of my children, Chris, is a man who not only rises to the challenges of parenthood, but exceeds at it and relishes in it. Simply put, there is no better dad for my three sons.

In the last three months when I had to leave home to begin my new job in the town to which we were relocating, Chris stayed behind, worked full time and took care of the boys. He checked homework, he cooked meals, he coached Little League. My boys know that he is a rock, the one who makes them laugh, tends to their needs and the model for being a good man.

Happy Father's Day, Chris.

Resilience

Every week I sit across from a parent, a relative, a foster mom or social worker who wonders aloud if the child they are caring for will recover from the physical or sexual abuse they have experienced. It is a tag line of mine to parents and caregivers that "children are resilient." I don't think I could do my job if I didn't truly believe that children could recover from the horrible things that adults do to them. Still, I am amazed and humbled when I see evidence of it in its many forms. So what does relilience look like? We often think of resilience as the end result of a fully "healed" child. It is present, however, even in the midst of their deepest struggle.

Resilience is the teenager who spends an entire session...or many sessions...in stoney silence with arms crossed. The message I take from her is, "I know how to set my boundaries with you even though I've never been safe enough to set boundaries before." I might be the first person in a long time who has taken her "NO" at face value and honored it.

Resilience is in the child who comes to my therapy session with a picture for me that says, "I am happy on Tuesdays because I see my counselor." What I read when I see this picture is a little boy who is saying, "I've decided trust someone again, even though it has cost me dearly in the past." He has given me the opportunity to teach him how to trust and still protect himself in the future.

Resilience is the little girl who pretends she is a superhero when she hears her parents fighting. She is telling me, "I know there is a better place inside of me to wait out this storm." I will get the opportunity to show her that she won't always have to hide the depths of her imagination to feel secure.

Resilience is the adolescent boy who says, "I've been angry for 8 years, but I can't let it out yet because it would all just explode". Even in his hesitation, he has given acknowledgement to his emotion. It will be my wish to show him that his anger is justifiable.

Resilience is every child who sits across from me and dares to share the secret of their hurt.

Right Here, Right Now

When I speak to people about human trafficking, the assumption is that it occurs somewhere "over there"--across the ocean, on some third world continent, among the poor and deviant. This assumption is not just made among "lay people", but made by mental health service providers, social service workers, and law enforcement as well. I cannot say loudly enough that it is happening RIGHT HERE, RIGHT NOW. It is happening in the same shopping plaza you go to drop off your dry cleaning. It is happening on the same website where you look for your next apartment or job. It is happening in the homes and businesses in neighborhoods with manicured lawns. It is happening.

Here is the mirror I am holding up for us to all look into: Sex Trafficking in Rural SD. Even in remote, rural South Dakota sex trafficking has found its hold. Events like the Sturgis Motorcycle Rally and the upcoming hunting season bring in millions of dollars to the state in the sprin and summer. However, it also brings the opportunity for criminal organizations to set up shop for the thousands of men descending on the state.

http://www.keloland.com/News/NewsDetail6371.cfm?Id=100246

International Women's Day- LET'S DO SOMETHING!

Today is International Women's Day. In honor of this day, I want to highlight an organization that embodies the action required to empower women: Women for Women International. The common denominator among the organizations I support is their commitment to moving past "awareness" and pushing for "ACTION". Not just action on behalf of women or marginalized people, but action from those people. When we empower the marginalized, they are able to transcend victim/ survivor status and move on to become active citizens and change makers for others.Women for Women International believes, as I do, that if we give women access to knowledge and expression of voice along with access to and control of resources that THEY will affect lasting social and political change in their communities.

For many of women in "first world" countries (myself included), the fight for equality means breaking a glass ceiling. In developing world countries, the fight is for access to electricity and water, education and medical care. The fight is for freedom from the violence of rape, genital mutilation, forced marriage, extreme poverty and starvation. I'm not saying that the fight is an either/or battle. Break that glass ceiling, but in the process remember that there are women...millions of women...who aren't yet even in the building; they are still standing outside the door of opportunity. Remember them and find ways to push that door open.

What can you do? How can you help give voice to the voiceless? Be their audience and their witness. Advocate for them while they are learning to speak with their own voice. How can you provide access to knowledge? There are many organizations committed to the education of women in developing countries. Support them; it takes less than you might imagine. How can you help them gain access to resources and control of their own lives? Make your own powerful voice be heard by our leaders in State Department and government at large. Let them know that the status of women worldwide impacts us here at home. Countries who have the worst reputation for human rights violations against women and children are also the countries who are the biggest threats to the United States in terms of terrorism and military conflict. Lifting the status of women in those countries should be a high priority in the fight against terrorism.

What will your impact be today...and tomorrow...and the day after? You are needed!

Asking.

In August of 2009, I began talks with the executive director of Transitions Global, James Pond, about bringing compassion fatigue relief training to his staff in Cambodia in August 2010. Because I believe so strongly in the need for secondary trauma care and feel so passionately about the fight against sexual slavery, I offered these services completely pro bono.
What I am not able to cover is my own travel expenses (roughly $2,000). I am hoping that I can find 100 friends to donate $20. I would also be interested in locating a corporation or group willing to sponsor my work. In the Greater DC region, I am available to come to your organization or company to speak about this issue so you may learn more about compassion fatigue and the issue of human trafficking.
To donate to this effort, follow the Donate link to the right of this article.

New Directions

Since the start of this blog, one continuing theme has been about seeking direction and taking opportunity...even when the direction and opportunity seem daunting. I've also said that a big part of that comes from letting go of the idea that I must wait until I have it all figured out before I take action. Leap, and the net will appear, so to speak.

In the next two weeks, I will be packing up and heading across the country to start my career as a child abuse treatment specialist in Virginia. I will temporarily leave behind my own children so they may finish their school year. I am even driving solo cross country. Being in a car alone with my thoughts for two days is something I have never done...let alone live by myself for a few months. The concept is almost as foreign an idea as the concept of traveling to Cambodia. Yet, the leap feels right.

How do we know if one direction over the other is for the better? Well, we don't, I suppose. We can seek direction from family, friends, colleagues or religion. It is true that no man is an island and we make decisions based on responsibility and kinship with others. At the end of the day, however, it all comes down to finding the time to see what direction we turn internally.There is a line from a song, which I love: "One foot in and one foot back, but it don't pay to live like that."

And so it begins...

Domestic Violence: Why Doesn't She Just LEAVE????

"Why doesn't she just leave????" During my time as a therapist in a domestic violence shelter that was one of the more common questions I was asked by friends, family and co-workers of the victim. It was asked with agonizing frustration for the situation, and often, for the woman being abused. On a societal level, that frustration can turn into intolerance to the suffering: "If a woman is too dumb or lazy to leave her abuser then she gets what's coming to her" or "If she can't leave for her kids, then someone should take them away from her. She's an unfit mother." Notice how the criticism becomes much more harsh when the situation is depersonalized and the victim is nameless? These are all statements I have heard during my experience in DV work.


Is the question, though, unfair? I come from the camp that no question is unfair when real answers are being sought. Of course it is heart-wrenching to watch someone walk back to her abuser. Many times I've hung my head low in worry, self-reproach (could I have done more?) and down-right anger when a woman chooses to stay. Whenever ever I feel this way, I must remind myself why women stay. Hopefully, by reminding myself here with you today I'll also be able to answer the question for you.


Bottom line: leaving is a process, not an event. My friends at Transitions Global who work with survivors of sexual slavery talk about rescue being a process and not an event. Leaving an abuser is very much a self-rescue. Others can provide shelter, support and safety but it is the woman and her own sense of empowerment that will finally walk away. Indeed, 75% of women who experience abuse will leave their abuser. The nature of intimate partner violence, however, often makes that a prolonged departure. 


Anyone who asks why a woman doesn't simply leave is equating "leaving" with "safety." Unfortunately, this is not the case. Risk of homicide increases during the first two months after a woman leaves her abuser by as much as 75%. Simply put, threats of "I'll kill you if you leave me" are not idle threats. Even when the abuse does not result in murder, a full 70% of all injuries due to domestic violence occur AFTER a separation. Remember, a woman who has been abused has become skilled in her own survival. She can read a change in the air that most of us might never see. She has become acute in her observational skills which is directly related to her own ability to survive.


And it is not only her survival that she is ensuring. While on the surface it would appear that the only way to protect a child from harm is to remove him or her from the violent environment. Abusers often use children as tools in their system of abuse. Fathers who batter mothers are twice as likely to seek sole custody as non-abusive fathers. Even when women have successfully retained their children, they have been subject to financial abuse and isolation from friends and family which makes a successful departure often impossible. A full 50% of homeless women and children are on the streets because of violence in the home.


Among these statistics and facts, I have not even begun to account for the psychological toll that abuse takes on the victim. She has been forced to believe in her powerlessness, her worthlessness and her shame. When I meet with a woman for the very first time, I say to her: "I am so glad you are here. I am amazed at your strength to continue surviving. How do you do it?" In that, she can perhaps begin to see her story anew. She does have power and choice. If she chooses to stay, then who am I to take the power of that choice away from her? She understands better than I how to survive in her life in that moment. By honoring that choice, we have perhaps begun the process of her departure.

If you or someone you know needs help:

National Coalition Against Domestic Violence 

(for help anywhere in the country)

Colorado Coalition Against Domestic Violence 

(for help in Colorado)

Safehouse Progressive Alliance for Nonviolence 

(for help in Boulder and Broomfield counties in Colorado)

Empowerment vs Rescue

I had several good, if brief, conversations with friends today that has woven an interesting tapestry of thoughts in my mind this evening. Virginia Woolf was able to construct an entire new way of writing by following her stream of consciousness. I'm setting the bar much lower for myself and am going to aim for expressing my thoughts without tripping over my own logic. The conversations were: A discussion on the nature of empowerment. A repartee on the cross section of humanity found in airport terminals as it pertain to the concept of survival of the fittest. And a rant about the Baptist missionaries accused of human trafficking in Haiti. It left me with questions. Who is in need of rescue and who is most capable of survival? Are the needy necessarily the weakest? Do they need (or even asking for) rescue or do they need empowerment? How do rescue and empowerment look different in action?

"Rescue" is a powerful word. As with anything that holds power, it can be misused. I look at all that I have seen coming out of Haiti the last few weeks--both in person and on the news. Truly, I have seen people in need of rescue. Anyone who saw the 5 year old boy pulled from the rubble eight days after the earthquake, arms stretched to the heavens, knows that he was in need of rescue. He was helpless. Without rescue he would not have survived. However, when we make a blanket statement that an entire people are in need of rescue, we make assumptions about our own superior instinct for survival and the others' helplessness. We steal their ability to claim empowerment. 

I believe this was the error in the missionaries' ideology when they traveled to Haiti to "rescue" children. While they are still only accused and nothing has been proven in a court of law, there seems to be strong evidence that they planned to find children (parentless or not) to save them from the ravages of Haiti. Clearly, the missionaries could not see the ravages a child would experience from being stripped away from family and community. The phrase "self-righteous" was used in my conversation about these missionaries today. It's a loaded term and so I'll take the plank out of my own eye first. I have been guilty of being self-righteous in my proclamation of who needs help and rescue. Sitting across from a client in pain, I sometimes fight the urge to say "Just do X, stop doing Y and you'll be fine." My job, I remind myself, is to help them use the tools to craft their own solution. When I allow that process to unfold, I'm always reassured when they crafted a solution or way of being that was more appropriate than my gut instinct of "STOP THAT!" That is the difference between "Rescue" and "Empowerment."

What a different story it would have been had those "missionaries" gone in like so many others there and asked "How can support you in getting your needs met" or "How can I advocate for you?" We assume...I have assumed...weakness where there is actually great strength. Who is the stronger, more powerful mother? The mother sitting in a tent tonight with her 6 children, rationing her own water so her children won't be thirsty or a mother, like myself, sitting in a suburban home with kids tucked into bunk beds. Our fortune as a nation does not ensure our survival any more than the misfortune of another denies their strength. I sat in a room with 83 Haitian children...none older than 12...every single one stronger in their survival than pampered, sheltered me. Survival of the fittest? They've got me beat. 

But truly that's not the message. It's not about who is stronger, weaker, self-righteous, or pitful. Empowerment is the process of not only recognizing our own strength, but identifying strength in others, each of us filling in the gaps where we need help. And what a weight off our shoulders to know we don't have to rescue everyone. We simply need to empower and, in turn, let others empower us. We lean in together and join our strengths. It's a synergy thing.

Heal Thyself

"Physician, heal thyself"; and while I'm pulling out parables, how about "the cobbler's children have no shoes." No, I do not miss the irony that a therapist who purports to teach compassion fatigue and resilience has run herself into the ground. What would normally have been a small cold has reduced me to a sniveling, whining creature who has slept more hours than she's been awake the last several days. The fact that I flew to Charlottesville, bought a house and had a job interview in the midst of said cold-turned-sinus-infection seems to be "blips" of activity between "ugly Nyquil" sleep. Which reminds me: my apologies to the perfectly nice gentlemen beside me in 28B on the flight back to Denver. I'm pretty sure he thought I had Ebola, as he kept his scarf around his face most of the flight.

Oh my...did I just say I bought a house while drugged on Nyquil and deaf in one ear from infection? I'm going to rely on the knowledge that we had decided on this purchase prior to my illness and that my wobbly signature on the dotted line will be minor history in the overall story of my life. I guess while I'm working on apologies, I should send a "shout out" to Realtor Lee. Thanks, Lee, for pretending not to notice when I borrowed a large sum of Kleenex from the house on Monet Hill Lane. Hey...I'm buying their house, they can spare some Kleenex.

All joking aside, it proved to me in very real ways that we all have our limits. Sometimes those limits come up faster than what we would expect. If we aren't careful, they not only impact us, but those we love. Remember when I said the "cobbler's kids have no shoes?" As I was working with kids coming in from Haiti and interviewing for a position that would have me working with child abuse victims, I had completely forgotten that my middle son, Joe, was finishing his 1st grade unit on Mexico. The end celebration involved a Fiesta and Mexican market. Each child was to bring in 10 handmade crafts which they would trade with other children. On that day, I was out of town. Joe had no crafts to bring. Those of you who are parents know how awful that feels to know I let my son down...and how embarrassing it is to admit. But I admit it for two reasons: to make sure I am accountable and also to say that even with the best of intentions, we fail. We fall short of what we owe ourselves and we owe our children.

My Joe

I told Joe how sorry I was I didn't help him make crafts. He shrugged and said, "No biggie...me and Haley and Blake all shared stuff." Good to know kids find solutions to our own, adult failures. As for me, I'm learning some important lessons.

From Haiti, With Love

Walking through the terminal toward a waiting room full of expectant, adopting parents, I felt as if I have spent a week in the Miami International Airport, not 24 hours. Tired already and having the sneaking suspicion I would be up throughout the night and next day, I took a moment to reflect. In crisis work, I have been trained to have a bag packed and be ready to leave on a moments notice. Still, responding to a crisis call for the first time was a jolt of adrenaline and apprehension. I received the message to head to Miami to help with the care and transport of Haitian orphans last Wednesday at 11:30 am. I was on a plane by 3:30pm.

The original plan was that there would be three planes traveling into Haiti to transport orphans back to the US to their adoptive parents. One trip a day: fly in, board the children, fly home, reunite them with Moms and Dads. Clockwork. Except that words like “plan” and “clockwork” never apply in times of crisis and disaster. The situation was dynamic and details changed minute by minute. Through it all, the lead on the ground in Miami was also an adoptive mother whose husband was in Haiti with their two boys. I have a short list of women I consider to be Warrior Mothers and Tanya Ramsay is on that list. Emotions run high when so many precious lives are on the line. From time to time when it all got too much in the long hours of waiting, we would reach out to remind one another of our common goal: put those children in their parents loving arms.

As it turned out, I would be on the ground for only one of the planes coming out of Haiti. I had hoped to be on the transport team and get my feet on the ground in-country. This is where I learned another important lesson of crisis work: where you are most needed might not be the place you expected to be. I stayed on the ground in Miami with the parents as they waited at the charter airline ticket counter all night long.

Here was the amazing thing: I expected them to be beside themselves with worry and grief which would manifest itself in anger. After all, their children were in harms way. Even before the earthquake, they lived in a perilous country. Haiti was struggling: 80% of the population lives in poverty, nearly half does not have access to clean drinking water, and close to 3% has a positive HIV/AIDS status. 380,000 orphans are living in orphanages around Haiti and, sadly, many more orphans have been created in the last two weeks. Who would blame a parent if he or she were beside themselves in anguish as they waited for the safe return of their sons and daughters?

What I experienced was something very different than anguish or anger. The parents were patient, loving, excited, eager...and serene. That’s the best word I can put to it. Even as I write it, it seems implausible that serenity could exist in the midst of chaos and disaster. There was something in the air that night that I have yet to put my finger on. Some would say it was the presence of God providing comfort and peace. Some might say it was the power of synergy. Whatever it was, I experienced, in a most profound way, what I intellectually believed for years: people are resilient; they have the power to not only sustain, but embody their best selves in the moment they would be forgiven for being their worst.

As I sat with the parents throughout the night, my mind kept wandering to the scene that must have been going on in the plane and in customs with those 81 Haitian children. Their plane safely landed at 1am, but their journey was long from over. The children, along with the orphanage teachers, director and a slew of TSA agents, would spend the next 8 hours in customs. I know what flying with my children is like under ideal circumstances and it is trying at best. I ached for those children and for those who were taking care of them. As tired as I was, having not slept in nearly 24 hours at that point, I knew that my exhaustion could not compare to theirs.

Finally, at close to 9am in the morning, the announcement was made that the children were through customs. Parents were directed to a private meeting area where we would reunite them with their children. Dr. Michele Kelly and I, along with team members Ben Escobar, Allison Stone and many others, met the children and orphanage workers in the children’s waiting room. Many were exhausted and all were hungry and thirsty from their trip. There were children crying, but there were just as many children smiling and laughing. They seemed to know that they were home. We found our way to children and workers who seemed most in need of support.

I quickly spotted an amazing young woman who was working at the orphanage during the earthquake and had already made two trips in and out of Haiti delivering medical supplies and bringing home children. She was holding two young toddlers in her weary arms. I am still amazed by her strength which shone through the fatigue and shock in her eyes. She allowed me to take one of the little girls from her arms to lighten her load, if only just a little. This little one...about the age of my youngest son...clung to me for the better part of two hours as I continued to walk the room and help where I could. She clutched her bottle and rarely took her eyes off of mine. I could feel her relax as I carried her.

I have no doubt what our team did in that room was therapeutic, but it required no degree to perform the care. We soothed with gentle voice, wiped a tear, sang a song (oh, what beautiful song they taught us), gazed into questioning eyes and held a person in need. My reward at the end of that long, long 3 day journey was the experience of handing a child to his waiting mother’s arms. Words fail me.

Saturday morning I woke from my first full night’s sleep since Tuesday. I had the entire morning and much of the afternoon to myself before my flight back home to Denver. I found a corner of the airport to sit. Slowly, the world outside began to seep in. I could hear the Cuban music coming from a souvenir shop and the frustrated voices of cruisers with delayed flights home. Wavering between which world I was ready to join, I sat with an InStyle magazine in my lap, unopened.

Two Hands

Tonight there are parents all around the United States with children trapped in Haiti. Tonight there are parents sitting at their kitchen tables thinking about the child they have worked months and years to adopt and bring into their home. These parents could be kneeling by their bed right now, hands clasped, praying for the safety and strength of their little one. Tonight these parents might be clutching a picture of Johanna or Emmanuel. They will likely be remembering the last time they were in Haiti when they promised that little boy or little girl that Mommy and Daddy would return for them. I'm a mother myself. I know their worry must be unbearable. With any luck...and a lot of work on the part of people much more powerful than me...I will be traveling to help bring Haitian children home to the US to be with their adoptive families.

My official capacity for the trip will be as a trauma therapist caring for children until they can be reunited with their parents. But in my heart, I know what I will really be doing. I know that I will tap into my "Mommy" degree more so than my masters degree. And that is just fine by me. Wipe a face, comfort a little one in sickness, play a game, sing a song, bandage a hurt. Listen to a story. Allow a frightened one listen to the steady breath in my chest so she can too feel calm and safe. And in that, my degree and training as a therapist doesn't matter. My two hands matter. Keeping my heart open matters. Hope in the face of hopelessness matters. 

In the last week while this horror has been unfolding, I have been amazed by the power of action and activism. I have said before in this blog that I define activism by a willingness to DO and LEARN at the same time. Don't wait; stop simply "being aware" as my friends the Ponds say. There will be mistakes, mis-communication, frustration and false starts...but we learn and we do better

Therefore, my bag is packed and I am ready.  

CALL TO ACTION: Please contact President Obama at www.whitehouse.gov or 202-456-1111 (9-5 EST), asking him to sign an Executive Order to 1) establish a safe haven in Haiti for children in Haitian orphanages, and 2) allow the use of military personnel and assets to provide the security of children's travel anywhere but PAP airport to the US.

National Human Trafficking Awareness Day- 1/11/10

Today is National Human Trafficking Awareness Day. Up until last late last night I hadn't decided whether the timing of this day is unfortunate or a blessing for me. You see, I have been fire and brimstone about the issue of human trafficking for going on a year now. Late summer and fall were a whirlwind. I've attended movie screenings and panel discussions, traveled around the country to talk with leaders in the movement to learn as much as I can and done my small part in efforts to raise funds. At the same time, I've been trying to start a career that will keep me involved in humanitarian causes.

And now I'm pooped. Discouraged. I hit the proverbial runner's wall. I fell short on some goals, was disappointed at a few turns, and lost sight of what should be my next step. For a planner such as myself, it is this last bit that gives me the most worry. I give a lot of lip service to staying open to the adventure that life brings us. I have come to realize that I am all for adventure as long as I have control of the itinerary. I wonder what would happen if I simply let go of the white knuckle grip I have on determining the outcome of my future. Sounds downright un-American, doesn't it? It runs counter to the doctrine of manifest destiny, rugged individualism and Horatio Alger.

Right here is where the pill becomes too bitter to swallow. My very discomfort and angst at this position speaks to the overwhelming privilege I possess. I have the choice to rage against the machine or crawl into this rabbit hole I've existed in the last few days. "Choice" is an unknown concept to many women around the globe. I have been allotted the benefit to sit in my four bedroom home and bemoan that I'm over-educated and under-employed. I use the word "allotted" intentionally. This privilege is a portion assigned or given; it is not an earned freedom on my part. I have no special gift or quality above a woman in India or Yemen or Cambodia. The only difference is the happy chance that I was born in the United States of America.

Because I was born in the United States of America to middle class parents, I could rest assured that I would be educated, fed, clothed and loved. As a child, I would never be ripped from my mother's arms to work in a farm or factory far away. I could be confident that my virginity would not be sold to the elderly man down the street. I would never be forced to carry a machine gun at the age of 10 to fight in a genocidal war. . I would never have to face the torture and mutilation that would occur if I resisted any of these fates.

While I could comfort myself with the blessing of my birthright, I also know that the United States is not protected from the horrors of slavery. Tonight in downtown Denver there is a girl. This girl, like me, was born in the United States. Yet, she missed out on the privilege I enjoy. She is being bought and sold in the backroom of a massage parlor or on a dirty mattress of a run down motel. Perhaps she has forgotten what horrible turn of events forced her on this road. More than likely, she has long since given up believing in a way out.

My point might be difficult to find in the midst of my process, but here's what it comes down to: I know we all have our plates as full as we can handle and many of us feel we are barely getting by. The economy is horrible, relationships are hard and sometimes painful and the kids demand our attention. It is so much easier to go underground and look the other way. Today, however, I'm going to crawl out of my rabbit hole. I'm a bit thin-skinned and unsteady on my feet for the time being, but I'm going to step out today anyway and take action.

Can I ask you to do the same? No life commitment, no money, just one small action. Awareness is noble...action gets the job done. Here are some suggestions:
1) Call your local government officials. Ask them what they know about human trafficking in your area and how your city/ state is equipped to deal with the problem.
2) Choose to buy only fair trade coffee, chocolate or other products. It's not a salary issue...it's a slavery issue.
3) Ask your church, community group, PTA or other organization if they would be willing to host an information night about human trafficking. Many organizations such as Polaris Project and individuals such as myself can help facilitate discussions.

Take 15 minutes and do one thing. A good friend of mine has a saying: "If I can do, you can do it. If you can do it, I can do it."