“I don’t want you to pretend you are rich,” my Dad told me when I left for college. Until then, I didn’t know I lived in the ghetto. My Mom was the neighborhood doctor, and my Dad worked in a dental office. Our community never felt dangerous. My parents told me the people I associated … Continue reading Favored


Everyone Has a Story

There were scars on her back and pain in her eyes. She was a 10-year-old child who didn't know how to color.  I met her while volunteering at a safe house for those rescued from human trafficking. I had brought a coloring book and a box of crayons with me that day, and I set … Continue reading Everyone Has a Story