There are moments on the third floor of this apartment where a passing car, or whatever the neighbors are doing beneath us shake the floor. When this happens, the feeling comes back.


But today, that feeling means so much more. Today, that feeling brings me back, gripped by the exact same terror I felt on that January day. Ten months, and it still hasn't left. Ten months, and I'm still afraid while I live in my safe apartment without the concrete roof.


Ten months ago... all I can think about every time number 12 on the calendar hits is what I saw and felt and experienced that day. Every night on the 12th I remember sitting on the hard driveway with four kids playing on my legs, not knowing what emotion was coursing through me. I remember being astounded as the nannies voices rang out towards the heavens in worship when I knew what was at stake for them. I remember being so glad that D. was wrapped around me, holding me close like only a child truly can.


I will never forget that night and those moments. I will never stop praying for the ladies that gave me peace when peace should have been impossible. I will never forget God moving the way He did through our congregation of young and old, white and black...


In my dreams, you're still in my arms.