Saturday, November 17, 2012

Baby Bethany


BABY BETHANY IS HERE!

Yet another beautiful birth that I am so privileged and honored to be a part of! I am beyond blessed to be a foster mom to these precious teenage mothers, as well as a foster grandmother to their babies :)


On November 13th, 2012 at 7am, RUTH, one of our 15-year-old Maternity Home mothers, gave birth to a beautiful, spitting-image-of-her-mother baby girl! The delivery went so smoothly without any complications whatsoever and we praise God!! Ruth has only been at our home for a matter of weeks, but God brought her just in time in order for Ruth to be able to deliver this precious little one in a clinic with excellent medical care instead of in the mud hut in her village alone where she otherwise would have given birth.



Baby Bethany was delivered by our very own Kupendwa midwife, Roselyn, along with myself. :) Yes, I have delivered and assisted with many births this year since becoming a foster mother for teenage pregnant girls, but this one was extra “learning” and so wonderful. I was the proudest foster mom as I delivered that baby girl, placed her on her mother’s chest, then carried that bundle of baby girl over to the weighing scale.
Once again, I was the stand-in everything, as no relative could be reached or wanted to be reached. The stand-in: husband, mother, father, sister, brother, grandparent – once again, I was all that this precious young girl had during those monumental moments of her life…and I treasure and thank God for the honor and privilege.


Baby Bethany is healthy and the mother couldn’t be prouder! :) Continue praying for baby Bethany and her mother Ruth. Ruth still has so much to learn as a young single mother, but her spirit of will and trying are God-given and we believe that it will take her far!

Bless you for the prayers and encouragements! Any message written or posted on the page for Ruth will be given to her and will bless her more than I can say!!! May God bless you, baby Bethany, and precious Ruth :)


Welcome to the world, baby Bethany! What a joy your birth was for me – thank you for allowing me the privilege of delivering you! :) I love you, preciousness. 


UPDATE: 

Our 16-year-old expectant mother, Mirembe, suffered a miscarried. He precious baby is now in the arms of the Savior! We rejoice, as we grieve the loss down here. Mirembe is currently stil in the hospital for monitoring. Please continue to keep her in your prayers, as well as the other young mothers in our home as they minister to her over the coming days.

As we teach and preach at Kupendwa, Mirembe had come to truly love and WANT her baby, as had not been the case before entering our home. She is grieving the loss, as we all are, and your prayers during this time are so appreciated. May God bless you. 

Sunday, November 11, 2012


She started bleeding.

Mirembe is 6 months pregnant and should not be bleeding. Her stomach started hurting the night before, but she didn’t say anything. How many times must I say it – tell me, please! Tell me if anything happens.

But she kept quiet, hoping it was nothing.

We jumped in the van as early as possible this morning, and headed to the hospital. The line was long. The doctor wasn’t coming. The midwives weren’t sure and were honestly a little scared…and didn’t want to have it on their hands.

I haven’t had to deal with one of my teenagers having a miscarriage yet. And honestly…I’m not sure I’m ready for it. I got choked up a couple of times yesterday during the ordeal and couldn’t pray out loud for the tears streaming down my face as I stood next to the hospital bed. I silently begged God – “Not this. Not this one! Lord, she was raped, she’s young – but don’t take this baby. Not yet – I’m not ready for this.”

My children waiting at home, a Maternity Clinic to run, a mother with a preemie needing attention, a baby whose colon has twisted needing urgent care – all were clamoring for my attention. So, I left Mirembe there with one of her other teenage “sisters”.

A call came later – the bleeding has stopped…some. But she has malaria and they’re just still not that sure about the baby.

So as of now…we still don’t know. The baby seems to be experiencing sme kind of trauma.
I am asking for your prayers. Please pray. Please pray for Mirembe and for her baby. Lift them up before the throne of God with us and pray God’s will be done in both of these precious lives.




Thank you. We’ll update as soon as we can. May God bless you. 

Monday, November 5, 2012

Ruth


Tears welled in her eyes as she sat and began to speak. Slowly, the story started unfolding as the pain and difficulties of the past came spilling forth. She sat on my bed and narrated how she had gotten here…here: to this place of 7 months pregnant. 
Orphaned. 
Alone. 
Hungry. 
Struggling. 
Abandoned by her “husband". 
And left with nothing.

This place in life is where she walked into my living from. And sat to tell me how much she needed help. How sorry she was. How desperate she was to save her baby and her own life now. The story goes something like this:

“My name is Nakato Ruth and I am 15 years old. I lost both of my parents from HIV when I was 6 years old. I was left with my grandmother who helped raise and support me in everything from that time up until now. She tried to pay for school fees for me at a village school but she also had very little help and support for herself and struggled to get enough for us to live on. While growing up, I used to do a lot of farm work as that was the only way for us to survive. I used to dig from morning until evening in the gardens, then come home late and cook. Sometimes it would rain on me while in the garden and the next morning I would be so sick. I used to do all of my housework early in the morning before we headed to the garden. We used to clean the house and then fetch the water from 2 miles away from my house. We used to take the animals to the grazing pasture. I would feed the animals and try to make sure that they lived so that we could have something to sell. I remember going days without food. I could starve because we had nothing. We had very little food.

My house would leak when it would rain all night. Especially where I used to put my head. I had no bed and mattress so I would sleep on the hard ground. And sometimes the water would come like a river through our mud house. we were struggling. I felt like a nobody. I would cry day and night not knowing what my future would be. I felt like I had no use in the world. I had no one to run to; no one to talk to. I used to grow coffee beans to sell to get school fees and some education. Life was getting harder and harder. My grandmother was growing older and older and I knew she was struggling to support me and take care of me. So, one day I fell in love with a guy who promised to support me and take care of me if I loved him.

Because of lack of money and I loved this guy, my grandmother had to give me away to a guy because of the dowry that would help my grandmother and also me survive. We were struggling and we thought that the best way for me to be taken care of was for me to marry. So, I went to live with this guy and I got pregnant soon after. When he found out that I was pregnant, he got scared. He ran away from the village and left me for dead because he was not ready to support me and the baby. And he had no job and had just been struggling to find odd jobs to do to earn a little to live on.

But after he ran away, I felt so lost and didn’t know what to do with myself. I thought about committing suicide and saving both myself and the baby from suffering in this world. I could at least starve, but making a baby starve is horrible. I was so scared and alone. I didn’t know what to do, so I just considered all options. I also thought about aborting 2 times, but people around me said no and encouraged me not to abort or commit suicide. They said that I would make it somehow. That God would help me somehow. So I decided to keep the pregnancy. I was so scared about how I was going to live with the pregnancy though and whether I would really make it. Where would I get food from? How would I get medical help? Where would I get the medical supplies for the birth and help afterwards with the baby now that the boy was gone and my grandmother had no support?

As I was still home, my aunt came and told me about Kupendwa. And what they do to support girls in my kind of situation. I’m so thankful that Kupendwa decided to take me in and welcome me into their hearts and lives. I now have some hope for me and my baby. I am doing so well – they take such good care of me and make sure that I am ok. I am also receiving education and vocational skills training that I never even dreamed I would be able to have. They are so excited about the baby and me and our lives and all that the Lord has in store for us – and I am learning to believe that way too. I am so thankful that God brought me here and I praise His name for still caring about me. I am learning more and more about God’s love and purpose for my life while being here and I am so much more hopeful for my life. May God bless Mommy Amy, Auntie Betty, and Kupendwa.”                                    

                                                                                                                                                      -- Ruth
~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~


Now she is at THIS place. This place of peace and home. This place of shelter and food. This place of hope and faith. This place of redemption and restoration. This place of smiling – yes, smiling. This place of learning and education. This place of future and belief. This place of discipline and authority. This place of teenage motherhood and sacrifice. This place of pictures of swollen bellies and teasing about pregnancy pain and tiredness. This place of teenage moms and craziness.

This place of love and lots of it.

This place. This place is where she walks from into my living room now. And sits and smiles that shy smile that I still have to coax sometimes. This place of sharing her situation and problems with others who have been there, done that, gone through it – and are looking at her from the other side.

This place.

Is where Jesus has brought her. And he is not even going to leave her here. He is going to take her further. Further into His likeness and glory and future and hope. Further with her baby. And further with Him.

Please keep Ruth in your prayers. If you are interested in helping Ruth and her unborn child, you can do so here through our Maternity Home program. There are options for one time or sponsorship giving, but anything will go so far in helping this mother continue to live, learn, and grow.

May God bless you, and our sweet precious Ruth. 

Sunday, October 28, 2012

Rainy mornings and hoodies...the best. 
My little ones absolutely LOVE when the weather gets chilly enough to wear their "sweaters".
Then we all like to head out to the front porch and catch raindrops and try to drink them. 
Yep - precious, blessed, rainy mornings :) 





Friday, October 26, 2012

My children wanted to wish their Uncle Mark a happy birthday, but right before dinner, with signs, distracted, having to sit lined up next to each other on the couch - was probably not the best time or way or place to take a happy "Happy Birthday" picture for Uncle Mark! Sorry, Uncle Mark! But Happy Birthday, anyway :)


They seriously became completely enamored with the signs! and yes, we have done signs before, although you wouldn't know it! 



Wednesday, October 17, 2012


I hear my young teenage mothers in the next bedroom raving over my 2-year-old daughter’s new hair-do while exclaiming over and over again how beautiful she is.

And I stop dead in my tracks.

I could just imagine my daughter’s delight and beaming face as she stood under the showering of praises and love from her “big sisters”…who just happen to be teenage mothers. 

So, what caught me off guard? Why the stopping? Shouldn’t this be normal? Shouldn’t this be the everyday?

but it hit me…

What their own mothers didn’t do. This is what their own mothers did not do for them. This is what my teenagers did not hear from their mothers while growing up as young girls. This is the happiness and praise that they did not receive when they were 2 years old. The love. The praise. The adoration. The pride and delight that a young girl feels over knowing that she is loved and adored. The pride that a mother feels over her daughter.

It wasn’t there.

Yet, as I listen from the next room, what I hear are the hearts of my teenage moms pouring out motherly love to my daughter. I do not hear the selfishness, bitterness, and anger that first entered my home, but the music to my ears that I now listen to is my teenage moms living out love to children…even to children that are not even theirs. But their minds and hearts are learning motherhood. Loving. Cherishing. Praising. Adoring. 

I hear the tickling and laughing with their own infant daughters. I hear the praises and love flowing from their lips. I hear the kisses and happiness that has replaced betrayal and rejection that has been their lives before.

I hold my breath. “Maybe it is working. Maybe it is working??” Maybe this craziness that is our lives is working after all. Maybe bringing these desperate teenagers off the streets and out of the trees and into my heart, life, and home wasn’t as “off” as it seemed?

Maybe somewhere amidst the madness and chaos…is that healing and teaching of hearts, minds, and souls. Maybe? Just maybe?

The countless minute prayers that I shot heavenward the weeks and months after they first entered my home…when I was struggling to even make it from one minute to the next…maybe He heard. “You know He heard”, I tell myself, but in those hard moments, when the pasts, heartbreak, confusion and anger come pouring out from their hurt hearts, the Truth can be hard to cling to. But cling I must. And so cling I do.

These angry, confused, heartbroken, scared skinny pregnant teenagers walked into my heart and life…and just never left. And those same bitter, rejected teens are now the joyful, content, peaceful, and sometimes even just downright giddy teenage moms making my daughter beam with happiness in the next room.

I can only stand as the tears pool in my eyes and whisper a prayer of thanks. Thanks because the Father is good. Thanks because we are now at this place. This place of love and affection and kindness…slowly replacing the hurt, anger, and selfishness of before. Thanks because He has brought us this far and is not going to leave us now…not now, not ever. Thanks because He is the only One who can take our ashes and give us complete and perfect beauty. Thanks because He makes all things new. Thanks because He truly can redeem.

As I let my head fall back against the doorjamb, I let the tears fall. My heart shouts thanks…because they seem to be learning. Thanks because maybe in all of the chaos and craziness they heard something that I said. Thanks because maybe through all of the sin and frustration and tears and yelling when I shouldn’t…maybe they saw the love through it all.
He redeems whatever preciousness has been lost or taken from His children…if only we let Him. Whatever has been lost or taken from any one of us. No matter what the story. No matter how deep the hurt. No matter even how big or small the stolen preciousness may have seemed at the time…no matter how much we may try to pretend that it didn’t matter, or that it wasn’t a big deal…or actually try to convince ourselves that it just didn’t happen in order to save ourselves the pain and hurt.

No. No matter what the lost preciousness in our lives may be…He can redeem. Whether large or small, whether life changing or just a momentary hurt…He redeems. 

He redeems.



The tears flow from a heart full of thanks because maybe through all of the sin and ugliness…He allows my girls to see the redeemed. The redemption that is my life in Christ. Through it all, He sweetly and so graciously allows them to somehow see my heart that is truly full of love for them.

Maybe they heard the truth through the shouting and the crying and the discipline and the punishments and the prayers and the tears after all. Maybe they were watching…and maybe Jesus graciously let them see the good…the love through it all.

All I can do is stand in my bedroom doorway in awe and listen…

…listen to the sound of REDEMPTION.



Wednesday, October 10, 2012


The view from my kitchen window that lights my face with smiles and brings tears to my eyes.

Blessed does not even begin to describe. 

Thankful does not scratch the surface. 

Completely overwhelmed at God's goodness, grace, and miracles every single day.

As I sit here writing, my 4-year-old and 3-year-old daughters are hanging over my shoulders to point out each pair of shoes and name the owner :) 

Thank you, Jesus, for the beauty of family. 



Monday, October 8, 2012


My girls’ stories break my heart. Each. And Every. Time. I. Hear. Them.

People ask me all of the time about my pregnant teenagers – “What are their stories? Why are they here? What happened to them?”

And I struggle. I want to and try so hard to explain, but so often, I fail. Where do I begin? How do I say? I tell myself, “Amy, don’t cry – this person does not want to see you cry!” Yet still, I fail. I can either think about the reality and completely lose it emotionally, or not think at all and distance myself from the story entirely. Either I put on the hard face just to try to get through it with no emotion and pretend that the story is not the life story of my precious teenager, or I let the reality sink in and tell the story from my heart and end up a weepy mess. Two ways: Hardened. Or Weepy. I just can’t seem to do much in between.

But either way…I struggle.

It just doesn’t get any easier for me. In fact, the more the stories sink into my mind…and into my heart…the more they almost become mine. I can recite them and tell the stories almost as well as my girls can. Sadly, I even remember the details sometimes when they forget…or block them from their memories.

I remember them because they are so horrifying and utterly heartbreaking to me that I just can not forget. I have not walked the paths and experienced the evil of this world in quite the way that my girls have. I have experienced my own pain, heartbreak, and evil, but God still allows my heart to be completely broken over the hearts of the teenagers He has given me to love and mother.

I remember each detail when sometimes, I believe that my girls would rather forget the stories and pasts and histories…those details that hurt the most...in an attempt to save themselves from the pain. They bury the hurt far down within their minds…almost hoping, I think, that those details will one day be forgotten.

I know them. My girls. The stories. The pasts. The histories of their short lives so far. Only just teenagers. Only having walked through a number of short years, yet, they have been through so much more than I want to admit…to stand before me today as proud mothers of their infant little girls or still expecting their precious baby.

All four of my teenagers that have already given birth have produced baby girls. By God’s beautiful design :) And I believe for a much bigger purpose than any of them can even fathom right now. As I am constantly reminding about burping the baby after feeding; as they are still trying to figure out the whole breastfeeding thing and how to hold the baby correctly; as they hear me yell yet again, “Hold the baby’s head!”…I don’t think that God’s master plan has even thought about entering their minds, but oh, has it entered His.

I believe that these infant baby girls represent so much more than any of us yet know. They represent so much hope. So much future. So much bondage breaking. So much redemption.
These babies represent redemption from what the enemy had stolen from their mothers but what God has claimed as His once again. Redemption of the beauty of motherhood. Of the bond between mother and daughter in the way that was His original design.

These infant baby girls do not represent the broken relationships that have existed between many of my teenagers and their own biological mothers. They do not represent the broken hearts, the devastation, the distrust, the rejection, the hurt, pain, and anger.

No. These babies represent the beauty. 

The beauty coming up from the ashes.



Sunday, October 7, 2012


Basically the conversation went something like this…

Me: “Josiah, who pulled down the curtain and ripped the mosquito net and is banging the screens on the window?”

My 2-year-old-son: “Josiah.”

Me: “Really? And who is going to pay for fixing those?”

My 2-year-old son: “Josiah.”

Me: “Oh, really? And how is Josiah going to pay for fixing those?”

My 2-year-old son: “Eating food.”

Me: “Josiah’s going to eat the food?”

My 2-year-old son: “Mmm.”

Me: “And pay for the fixing?”

My 2-year-old son: “Mmm.”

Me: “Thank you, sweet boy.”


Saturday, October 6, 2012

It's the simple things in life...



...like swinging on the swingset with my 2-year-old. 

...that bless my heart more than words can express. 

:)


Thursday, October 4, 2012


Mirembe Phoebe

Mirembe Phoebe is the newest member of our Kupendwa Maternity Home family! 
Phoebe arrived on September 26th and was accompanied by her auntie who has been raising her since her mother's death years ago. Phoebe has never known her father and to this day has no idea who he is or where he might be. Phoebe is 15 years old and around 5 months pregnant. 
Please pray for Phoebe as she adjusts to life in our home, sees Jesus in a real way each and every day, and as she continues with her pregnancy.

Thursday, September 20, 2012

She called me JaJa


She called me JaJa.

“Deanna, greet your JaJa Amy!”, my teenager said to her two-month-old infant daughter.

“Greet JaJa!”, she commanded her baby while laughing at my now stunned face.

Today…I think I became a grandmother. Well, I guess technically, I have been a grandmother for much longer than just today since the baby I am grandmother to is now two months old, but today…today it became real.

She called me “JaJa”.

In the local Luganda language, “JaJa” means “Grandmother”. My precious 14-year-old kept laughing right into my face as she so often does as she continued, “Mommy Amy, since I am your daughter, that makes my baby your granddaughter!”

I stood stunned and more than a little overwhelmed.

A grandmother…she just called me a grandmother. She just called her baby girl my granddaughter. But then…wait a minute...

My daughter. She called herself my daughter.

That almost hit me more in the gut than being called a grandmother did. And I sure would have expected it to be the other way around. But there she stood as she looked me in the face, eyes shining, face beaming, and proudly called herself my daughter. I didn't exactly know how to respond, as I gave her a huge hug and blinked back the threatening tears. 

I didn’t say it. I didn’t have to. She said it herself. Because she knew it to be true. She knew my heart, and most of all, my love for her.

A daughter of my heart. A daughter whose birth mother is so far out of the picture. Alive, yes. But for this 14-year-old heart, her birth mother might as well be dead, as that would probably be easier to accept and swallow than being rejected, abandoned, and left for dead. It hurts…but sometimes the truth does.

She called herself my daughter. Honestly, I have never outright said, “I am your mother.” It really isn’t that true…I did not give birth to her; I have no legal paperwork saying that she is “mine”. No. I didn’t have to tell her, “You are my daughter”, or have legal paperwork, or give birth to her. No. She just spoke it to me herself out of heart knowledge and poured more love and joy and such deep down blessings into my soul that if tears would not have ruined the moment, I would have cried a river. But...then again...

I was the mother.

I was the mother who welcomed her into my heart and life and gave her a home.

I was the mother who gave her food, clothes, a bed, and everything else that she could possibly need.

I was the mother who had compassion regardless of her swollen belly or how it came to be.

I was the mother who kept loving no matter how much she rejected my love and pushed away.

I was the mother who comforted and held her weeping body over sins and shame.

I was the mother who would sit, and play, and teach, and encourage.

I was the mother who would love through discipline and punishment.

I was the mother who was there…who threw the precious 14-year-old 9-month pregnant body wracked with labor pains into my van and sped to the clinic. 

I was the mother listed as the next of kin.

I was the mother who looked deep into fear-filled eyes and said, “You can do this.”

I was the mother who held on tightly as her teenage fingernails dug deeper into my skin with each contraction.

I was the mother who stood beside the bed speaking words of encouragement as she pushed that infant baby girl into this world.

I was the mother who wrapped and carried that still slippery seconds-old-newborn over to the weighing scale with tears running down my cheeks.

And I was the mother standing here taking pictures of the now two-month infant baby girl…my granddaughter. 

I was the mother.

…and now, I am the grandmother.

It all connected with her today. If I am her mother…then her baby girl is my granddaughter.
I won’t even try to describe the joy. Or the surprise. Or the blessing. Or the deep down pride…and yes, more than the little emotion that flooded by heart and mind in that moment….when she called me “JaJa”. I looked at that still so innocent 14-year-old face and her puppy-dog face baby girl and couldn’t speak. Words sometimes just can’t express. And they just don’t seem to be enough. And so…I pour out my heart and soul in desperate prayer. Desperate prayer for all of the guidance, wisdom, love and grace that I need and will need to fulfill this task that He has placed directly in front of me. To fulfill this task that He asks of me, and has so graciously and lovingly given to me. This task of mother…..and now grandmother. Loving and guiding this mother, so that she in turn can love and guide. I never would have dreamed that at age 25, I would be a mother to teenage girls…and a grandmother to infants. But “thankful” and “blessed” do not seem to adequately describe the pride and joy…the honor and privilege. Because…

She called me “JaJa”.

She said, “I am your daughter.” 




Sunday, September 16, 2012

Sandra & Dickens


“I am really just so thankful. I gave birth to a healthy beautiful baby boy last year in October. I am really thankful for the mercies of God upon my life. The Lord has been really gracious to me. Last year when I got pregnant, I thought that was the end of my life. I was so frustrated, so scared, and so disappointed. My mother did not have a job and my father had died when I was very young, so my mother had struggled bringing me up and providing for me. Before I got pregnant, I was in school and my grandmother was the one paying my school fees and supporting me. But when I got pregnant, my grandmother said that she would not support me anymore. She was so angry and disappointed in me. At this point, I didn’t know what to do. I thought about aborting, as all of my friends told me to abort and they were seriously worried about me giving birth. But I saw that my life would really be in danger if I tried to abort using the traditional herbal medicines that kill many girls who try to abort. So I decided to keep the pregnancy and not abort. 

I did not deliver naturally when I gave birth; I had to go for a c- section. I remember walking into that operation room when I was terrified; I thought that would be the end of my life. I did not look behind me at Mommy Amy, Aunt Betty and my mother. I couldn’t. Mommy Amy prayed for me before and then I walked into the operation room. I tried to be strong and brave as I saw lots of knives and sharp instruments but I honestly thought that I was going to die. I did not think I would make it. 

I prayed and said that Lord if today I am to die, let me come straight to you but please save my baby and keep it alive. But the doctors did the operation well and my baby came out alive and then after some hours, I also came out of the operation alive. I was so thankful that I made it. I was so grateful and appreciative that Mommy Amy had been there for me during this hard time. Tears would not stop running down my cheeks because of the happiness. I was so overwhelmed with joy.

I am so thankful that God has been my shield and strength from the time I gave birth to today. I thank Him for my baby boy (Dickens). He is 10 months old now and doing very well. He is learning how to crawl and smiles a lot. It has been really nice watching baby Dickens grow, smile and myself be a mother. I honestly did not know how I was going to raise him up as a single mother.  It has been hard for me, of course, but I thank God that through this time I have learned to accept the gift of motherhood to Dickens, love and care for him. I believe that he needs support and love from me and I am ready to do that as a mother for him. Mommy Amy has believed in me, encouraged me, and supported me through everything.

I really thank the Lord that Mommy Amy came into my life and I was connected to her by a friend that said she had a passion for helping young teenage mothers like me. When she heard about me she was so touched and convicted to support me. Mommy Amy took me for prenatal checkups and supported me from home where I stayed with my mother throughout my pregnancy. I felt so blessed and I am so thankful that someone out there cared about and loved me. Mommy Amy has been supportive with all that I need, even long after I have given birth. She checks on me regularly, has me and my baby, Dickens, over to her home for days, and continues to help support me when I need help. She has blessed my life more than I could imagine. 

I now believe in a bright future for my life, even after the pregnancy. I really want to continue with school and then go for a vocational training skill. I want to be a hairdresser :) and be able to raise money to support me and my baby. Thank you, Mommy Amy and everyone who has supported both her and me and my baby through her. Thank you for your love and support. May God bless you." 




Friday, September 14, 2012

Christine

“Christine” : “follower of Christ; anointed”

Oh, how I praise the Lord for the true living out and testimony of your name! Just recently while I was watching you, I had to stop and stand in awe of God’s love and blessings in my life and in the life of our family. Just over a year ago, you entered our everyday lives and became a forever member of our family. I look back on that day with so much praise, love and gratefulness…and a few tears. While heading home on that late night bringing you back from the village, I looked up at the stars and just prayed. Prayed that through God’s mercy I would somehow be a blessing to you, but sweet girl, you have been more of a blessing to me. I remember the day you asked Christ to come into your life this year, and the joy and happiness that filled you made me stand again in awe of Christ’s love for us and the miracles that He works in and through our lives. I continue to look forward to all that God is going to do in and through your precious life as you follow and serve Him. 
I love you, beautiful girl.






Matthew 16:24  “Then Jesus said to His disciples, 
‘If any man will come after me, let him deny himself, and take up his cross, and follow Me.’”

I believe that this will be your life, precious girl. As you continue to seek Christ, live your life for Him and follow Him with all of your heart, soul, mind, and strength. I only pray that I will be here to watch you grow and experience the Lord in new and deeper ways the more you grow and walk in Him. I can only pray that God will give me the grace, blessing, and privilege of continuing to pour into your heart and life, and lead you to the Savior each and every day. I love you. more than you’ll ever know. 



My little Donna

“Donna” : “lady; a woman of refinement and gentle manners”

1 Peter 3:3-5 “Do not let your adorning be external – with the braiding of hair and the putting on of gold jewelry, or the clothing you wear – but let your adorning be the hidden person of the heart with the imperishable beauty of a gentle and quiet spirit, which in God’s sight is very precious. For this is how the holy women who hoped in God used to adorn themselves.”

Baby girl, oh how I pray for your future. That you would not just be a “lady”, as your namesake and JaJa has been before you, but that you will follow her footsteps in following Jesus Christ with your entire being, and be a true “lady”…the lady that is a woman of God. That you would possess that imperishable beauty so beautiful in God’s eyes. My little Donna, my prayer for you is that you will grow up to be a woman one who fears and loves the Lord with all of her heart. A lady of true refinement and gentle manners…those manners and refinement that come from the Father’s hand. Keep smiling, cutie pie. and laughing, and giggling and singing and dancing and lighting up our lives. 










My baby girl. You are more adorable than I can put into words. And smarter than I can describe or even want to really admit. Your little hands in mine make me thank God for you and praise His name for bringing you into our family. Your laugh and your tears make Mommy laugh…you are just so cute that I can’t help but smile whenever I look at you. 
Thank you for being such a light in all of our lives. I love you, baby girl.