From Paris With Love

There were so many incredible things that happened over the weekend, but none more devastating than the attack on our innocence. Terror took front stage on Friday and our innocence was the victim. But rest assured good prevails, as it always does because evil has no place amongst our existence. Yet we are changed as a world, and we now know that this cowardice act of terror will NOT, can NOT, become commonplace. The lives of the innocent that were lost will never be forgotten and this war we are fighting will somehow bring justice to a broken hearted world.

The words of the victims/survivors tell a story of courage, love and triumph for life; not at all what the hate that entered into the city of Paris on Friday night intended.
I came across this today when I was going to post something different entirely-and I am humbled by this young girl's resolve and by her courage.

This is the Facebook post of  Isobel Bowdery, a young college student who attended the rock and roll show at the Bataclan Theatre in Paris on Friday night:

"you never think it will happen to you. It was just a friday night at a rock show. the atmosphere was so happy and everyone was dancing and smiling. and then when the men came through the front entrance and began the shooting, we naiively believed it was all part of the show. It wasn’t just a terrorist attack, it was a massacre. Dozens of people were shot right infront of me. Pools of blood filled the floor. Cries of grown men who held their girlfriends dead bodies pierced the small music venue. Futures demolished, families heartbroken. in an instant. Shocked and alone, I pretended to be dead for over an hour, lying among people who could see their loved ones motionless.. Holding my breath, trying to not move, not cry – not giving those men the fear they longed to see. I was incredibly lucky to survive. But so many didn’t. The people who had been there for the exact same reasons as I – to have a fun friday night were innocent. This world is cruel. And acts like this are suppose to highlight the depravity of humans and the images of those men circuling us like vultures will haunt me for the rest of my life. The way they meticoulsy aimed at shot people around the standing area i was in the centre of without any consideration for human life. It didn’t feel real. i expected any moment for someone to say it was just a nightmare. But being a survivor of this horror lets me able to shed light on the heroes. To the man who reassured me and put his life on line to try and cover my brain whilst i whimpered, to the couple whose last words of love kept me believing the good in the world, to the police who succeded in rescuing hundreds of people, to the complete strangers who picked me up from the road and consoled me during the 45 minutes I truly believed the boy i loved was dead, to the injured man who i had mistaken for him and then on my recognition that he was not Amaury, held me and told me everything was going to be fine despite being all alone and scared himself, to the woman who opened her doors to the survivors, to the friend who offered me shelter and went out to buy new clothes so i wouldnt have to wear this blood stained top, to all of you who have sent caring messages of support – you make me believe this world has the potential to be better. to never let this happen again. but most of this is to the 80 people who were murdered inside that venue, who weren’t as lucky, who didnt get to wake up today and to all the pain that their friends and families are going through. I am so sorry. There’s nothing that will fix the pain. I feel priviledged to be there for their last breaths. And truly beliving that I would join them, I promise that their last thoughts were not on the animals who caused all this. It was thinking of the people they loved. As i lay down in the blood of strangers and waiting for my bullet to end my mere 22 years, I envisioned every face that I have ever loved and whispered I love you. over and over again. reflecting on the highlights of my life. Wishing that those i love knew just how much, wishing that they knew that no matter what happened to me, to keep belieivng in the good in people. to not let those men win. Last night, the lives of many were forever changed and it is up to us to be better people. to live lives that the innocent victims of this tragedy dreamt about but sadly will now never be able to fulfil. RIP angels. You will never be forgotten."

Tuesday Tough Love

We all have to fly. We all have to spread our wings, fly free and soar where we have never dared to soar before. And we have to do it alone, but together in spirit. Always.

• The nest will be empty today..by 5 pm. I've realized that it's not about me. They will be great. I've done my job. 
• It's not so bad... my life is good. Possibly even great, but I'm being challenged lately. I can't run and hide. I've got to fight and move forward with everything I've got. Piece of cake, right?

I'm done whining and crying. I had my moment, now it's time to live. Fly free and soar. 

Eagles don't fly with crows. 

Sister Sister

My sister is my hero.

She really is. Battling again, 21 years later. This time the fight is much harder but she's a bit older and a bit wiser.
I can't imagine hearing those words from your doctor.
I can't imagine the fear, pain, reality and then the process, but I'm beginning to understand. Now it's the hair...

She took control and got one of those cute, super short hair cuts. I told her how much I loved it! She's in good company.

 But she keeps making jokes about having another brother. The reality is, she has no idea how beautiful she is. It's not just about outer beauty, her inner beauty and strength is inspiring but right now, she just can't see it. I get it. I just wish she could see herself through my eyes.

I worry about her. She worries about me, and everyone else in her family. Can you believe that? She worries more about her family and less about herself. She knows that she will make it through this. We all know she will, and as she navigates through what is now her world I see an amazing woman emerging. That same woman I love so much and call my sister, but a woman who is an example of what can be, a woman of experience and strength.

This too shall pass. And when it does we are going to celebrate at the top of the Eiffel Tower with a bottle of Pink Champagne!

A Tall Tale Of Courage And Hope

I happened across the Diane Sawyer interview with Jaycee Dugard last night and found myself unable to move from the TV for two hours. I had heard about Jaycee's horrid 18 year experience, being held captive at the hands of a madman, on the news and had caught bits and pieces of her story. But really I had no idea.

What I found was a not what I had expected. At all.

I found a beautiful and caring young woman who had decided to share her story so that it may help others. And the most courageous person I had ever seen.

With not an ounce of anger or harsh language, Jaycee took us back to when she was an innocent 11 year old that was taken captive by a disgusting and dangerous pedophile. Handcuffed and kept in a storage unit in the backyard of his home for most of her first year, Jaycee talks, almost childlike, about the man who robbed her of her life. She explains that for most of the first year she did not see the sun, or feel it's warmth on her skin, and that she grew to anticipate his short daily visits to her prison because she was "so lonely", as she explains.

Raped by him repeatedly, she says the hope of survival is what kept her going, while he went on elaborate drug "runs" in her presence, forced her to have sex with him and listen to his incoherent ramblings about God. She was fed sporadically, with fast food and scraps and handcuffed for almost all of that first year. She met his wife, as horrid and disgusting as he, and she explains that in all of her 11 year old little girl body, she wanted this woman to like her and accept her.

At the age of 14, Jaycee gave birth to a baby girl, then a few years later, another, to which she was overjoyed because she would no longer be alone. She had someone that was "all hers" as she says. She managed to write small journals on scrap pieces of paper and keep them hidden from her captors and that she always held out hope. Hope that she would one day see her mother again.

A mother who never gave up trying to find her. Never. A mother who never gave up the hope that her daughter was still alive and always spoke about when Jaycee would come home. A mother who held all that anger that one would think Jaycee would have, but does not. A mother who will continue to let that anger, now that she has her precious daughter is home, fuel the fight for a justice system that failed her daughter and her miserably.

All that is in the past now and Jaycee, holding her mom's hand tells the cameras that her captors can no longer steal anything from her.

She is home now and they are the imprisoned ones.

For what one can only hope will be much longer and harder than the 18 years they stole from Jaycee.