I apprehensively dressed for the day, carefully choosing all black to project the most intimidating image that I could. Black nails and lipstick, eyeliner, shirt and pants. It was the day my little sister and I were being taken from the orphanage where we’d been for the past three years to a private children’s home. As the child services vehicle wound its way through the mountains of Costa Rica, I fought dismay at the thought of living in the jungle. I remember praying as a child that God would save me from the cycles of witchcraft, parties, drugs, and violence that… Read More
