She was found. She was kidnapped on Monday. A little girl just 39 pounds was found the next morning. 39 pounds. My seven year old daughter weighs 39 pounds. I can’t breathe with the thought of this. What if? Why? How? Please, no. She is only six.

Stefanny was playing outside when she was abducted by a man on a moped. She was just playing in her front yard. My daughter plays in the front yard and even is allowed to walk to the coffee shop with one of her older brothers; it’s just a block away. Is that okay? I thought it was. What if it’s not? It must not be. How do you keep your children safe? I can’t breathe.

Chained to a tree. Stefanny was found chained to a tree. A tree. My mind jumps to the thought of my precious daughter chained to a tree by a sexual predator. I feel like I’m going to throw up. The sobs roar in my throat and my jaw clenches to fight the tears. I block any thoughts of horror. This isn’t my daughter and yet, the horror is too malevolent to even ponder for a second.

Her mama. Her poor mama. She is no different than me. Her daughter is no different than mine. Yet, I’m not the mother today gasping for air. I’m the one who can choose to walk away from the horrible reality, but I’m not going to do that. Can we pray for that mama today? Can we pray for her daughter? Can we offer a prayer of thanks that she was not killed? I can. I can do all those things because if it were me, I hope the same would be offered to my family, my daughter, my little girl. Though she is not mine, out of love, I will not look away. Will you join me? Xo

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