Page load

Will someone please tell me what a page load is???

David suggested a counter which is all good but I can't figure out what it is counting!

Does anyone know what a page load is?

-jane

crossing over

driving to my first day at DCF this morning, I came up Rt. 9 North. To my right was the Connecticut River with the morning dew rising from the river to greet the sunrise.... The Arrigone Bridge was shadowed slate blue in the fog. The scenery touched me in the deepest emotions of my heart. . . . .

today as I was driving north on 9 from Middletown to Hartford; I was crossing over the great divide. Finally at 38 years old I am employed by The State Of Connecticut; Department of Children and Families.

no longer a foster child. . . . no longer a parent being investigated . . . . no longer a foster parent. . . . no longer an intern . . . . no longer an employee of a non-profit agency linked to DCF but finally a real bonafide, DCF EMPLOYEE.


As I came upon Hartford now from Rt. 91 North, I looked in awe at one of the most beautiful cities that exist.

Like most cities, it has it's past, it's present and it's future. There is the old COLT building with a huge blue and gold dome as you pass it on the left. I hear it is now a historical museum, our country tributing it for the historical contributions to our country's firearms. The Traveler's building sits high in the city with a tower on top; looking much like the city's lighthouse. As I get closer to my exit, I see all the new construction from Adrienne's landing; our former governor's (the felon, convicted and in jail) attempt at a legacy to beautify the river's edge.


I parked my car in the parking lot that had once upon a time been a huge city building. It had since been crushed to the ground, making room for the desperate parking problems in Hartford.

I, dressed in ultra- professional attire for the first time in 5 years (not counting the job interview); grabbed my date planner, my purse and my notebook. I walked towards the Central Office building which was about 5 blocks away. I heard my shoes clanking on the side walk, feeling quite proud of myself. I walked past the worst projects that Hartford has given birth to....I smelled the garbage, looked at the broken bike tossed next to a doorway, looked into a child's bedroom that had toys stacked up high behind a torn curtain. I picked up my speed because even though I felt like I was one of the project's inhabitants, on the outside I was not dressed as one and knew I would not be considered as one belonging. I was afraid but reminded myself that most of the dangerous people would still be sleeping at 7:30 in the morning. . . .

I continued past a park that was nothing more than an empty field dedicated to a dead guy.

Looked up at a Cuban American grocery store with a clerk sweeping the steps, passed a woman that looked Jamaican- said hello to her but she looked down and kept walking.

I looked up and saw Hartford Hospital looming straight ahead with the orange flag hanging on top near the Lifestar landing. I knew that I was closer. The contrast struck me. . . the apartments and local shops were secured with black metal bars...and then there like a beauty queen walking amonst the paupers was the beautiful, dark pink granite, tall as far as the eyes can look up, DCF Central office building. It was secured in an iron fence with security locks and cameras everywhere. There is parking, but just for the very elite top positions or those who have given their lives in service now being gifted with a parking spot in the name of senority privilage.

As I walked closer to the building, with the trees beautifully cared for, the windows impeccably washed. I felt like a fraud. The closer I walked with my shoes tapping a rhythym, I noticed my reflection in the windows.

I was a professional 30 something woman coming to work. The middle age damage was covered by make-up and hairspray. The smile on my face was disguising the fear in my eyes.

I opened the door, walked up to the granite desk and announced my name. While I waited for the security office to verify my name and identification, I noticed the metal detectors that were on my right; they were trying to look like an arbor entrance to the stairs but I knew that they were really there to protect the staff from angry parents carrying weapons.

The security card cleared my arrival but as I passed through those metal detectors, I expected them to sound. "fraud. fraud. we have a fraud."


See, no matter how many courses that I have taken to qualify my existance. . . no matter how many children that I have fostered. . . no matter how many foster parents that I have trained to parent. . . . inside me is a woman accused not once, but twice of child abuse. Deeper in those eyes is a child.


A child who waited on the rock in the front yard for Beth Taub DCYS social worker to pick her up for court. A child who waited with every foster placement for the foster parents to call her worker and say, "get her out! she is not good like you said!" A child who waited in court for the judge to decide if she was guilty of being incorrigible or not. A child who waited for the pscyh hospital to release her brother from the lies against him. A child who no matter how many times you told her she was worthy, never believed you and always knew the truth.

That there is a fraud now working for DCF. Someome pretending to be a social worker with credentials wanting to help the children just like her... she is really still a very scared child.

Today that child put on her professional clothes, drove from home to the city and Crossed Over.... she is the social worker, no longer wating for anyone; ready now to fulfill the very dream that she was made for, to reach out and love the forgotten children.

-jane
called out of darkness and into the light-
from locked in chains of the child welfare system into
one with keys to unlock. . . . .

the Gallagher brothers. . . . .

Every now and then we get a little present from God.... a little message to reassure us that we are exactly in the palm of His hands. I had one of those messages this week.

As most of you know, I just returned to work after being a "stay at home" mom for the last 5 years. My son Caleb, was born with microcephaly. I decided to leave social services and take all the learning that I had and pour it into this child. Recently he entered mainstreamed kindergarten and I decided that it was time for me to get back to work.

I am a social worker by trade. I particularly love working with the youth in the fostercare system. I applied for a part time postition in our child welfare system at a residential hospital for teens aged 14-18. I will be a direct care worker for the older boys dormitory. They are 16 -18 years old and each have experienced a life different from the other but all have been placed by the child welfare department.

I will need to flashback to my junior year in high school. For those of you who don't know me, I myself was a foster child.

When I was 16 years old, I got my first job working at the local McDonalds. I was living in a foster home in my home town.

One day at work (think, 1984) a gorgeous guy with g-curls and a black jacket walked in. I did everything in my power to get him to notice me. Not only did he notice me, but he remembered me from kindergarten. He knew my name. For the life of me, I could not remember him. He took my phone number so we could "talk".

The boys name was Michael and he was trying to dress like his hero, Prince. He looked 100 times better than Prince. He told me that he remembered me from kindergarten because I wanted to play "house" then. . . . he said I would want him to be the daddy . . . . .

well, now I was wanting to play house. The boy's mother was a preacher at a local community church that gathered at the YMCA. I started going to church but to be honest, I wasn't looking for Jesus.

The problem that I had with Michael was Michael's big sister, Tuddie.

Tuddie didn't want her brother dating "white girls" and was very vocal about it. Her thing was, as she told me with a straight face, that when most black boys dated white girls, they dated trash ! She was against it because she felt that there were too few good black men around for the women and she wanted her brothers to stay with black women. Tuddie was a strong woman who got what she wanted and let her opinions be known. She often wanted to know when I called Michael if my mother knew that a nice young girl was calling boys....

In spite of that, what I found was an incredible family. His mother prayed for me. His sister, Tuddie listened to me. They were so loving. I couldn't believe how much love was in this family. Michael had a brother named Jeff. These boys went to the high school across town.

My senior year in high school came and the town merged the two high schools into one because enrollment was low. There in class was my dream, Michael. We had remained friends. What I didn't know (because I am football dumb) was that him and his brother were the football stars. They were extremely popular, and so good with the football that we won the state championships! (Middletown High 1985)

In spite of their local fame, these boys had character. They didn't get "caught up" in the things that popular boys do. They remained loving to a variety of peers, not just the popular crowd. There was never one person who could say anything bad about the Gallagher brothers. They, as young teens had what even adults lack today; integrity, character and compassion.

After high school, I went on my way with life. Some would say it was a "world tour"...hehehe.
I often wondered what ever happened to the Gallagher brothers and if life was good to them.

We just had our 20th year High School Reunion. I didn't go. I remember thinking that if I could just see the Gallagher brothers, I would go. The woman organizing it said, "we don't even know where they are!".


This week I was assigned to my dormitory. We work in a team of 4.

I met my other three workers, one of them was Jeff Gallagher!

I was so glad to see him, I hugged him so hard. We talked about the last 20 years, about his mother, brother and sister. Life has been good to the Gallagher brothers and for that, I am happy. His mother was one of the people in my life that helped me to overcome as a troubled child. She really walked what she preached.... I am going to write more about her one day.

For now, I am so overwhelmed with emotions at finding my friend, Jeff. I am looking forward to working side by side with him to help these children. I am looking forward to reconnecting with a family that made me feel so loved that healing was able to begin. . . and I am wondering if Michael still looks good without those g-curls!

I thank God for the connection.... I know it is his way of letting me know that I am exactly where I am supposed to be. I work over a half hour a way from home.... and Jeff lives over an hour in the opposite direction. Our path's crossing and connecting is a "God event". Those little messages of His love that keep us on His path....

-jane

Sex in the 90's....

this one is for the professor.

Regarding sex;

I was born in the late 60s and my mother was pretty progressive about sex. She was open and communicated very clearly about reproduction changes, sexuality and all the topics related to sex. She was perhaps too open at times. It struck me as odd when my friends were embarrassed to talk about sex to their mothers and didn't have that kind of open dialogue with them that I had with my mother.

So , I planned to carry on the family tradition and have an open communication with my children. It was part of my great "parenting plans". All parents have these plans in their subconscious minds- some get carried out but MOST get ditched to the "reality" bin.
Needless to say, there have been a few "bumps" along the way.

When Jason was in fifth grade, he came home with the "permission slip". Any parent of an pre-adolescent knows about the "permission slip". You can check the "yes" box to your child watching the movie about male reproductivity; girls reproductivity or both.

OK, now when I was in school, the movie was VAGUE. The diagrams on the chalkboard included pictures of swimming tadpoles fighting their way to eat the egg. No one told us how the tadpoles got there- well, not exactly no one. Kyle had a bigger brother who explained it to him in musical prose so he proceed to teach us nasty songs about people from Nantucket.

So I SIGNED. I agreed to let my little boy learn all about the tadpoles AND the eggs. After all, I come from a long line of open minded, communicating women when it came to sex.

WELL, sex education is a little bit different in school these days. And, I am not VERY OLD!

I think they forgot the tadpole and egg story. Maybe even forgot to tell them about hormones, voice changes and the little red dot at the end of each sentence!

My son was sitting at the dinner table when my (very newly married) husband asked him how his day went. We then listened to a very long dissertation on how he, (my 10 year old son) was going to have a "choice". ?????????????? A what? We asked.

A choice. He could choose his sexuality. He proceeded to share with us that he lives in "more modern times" and things are different. He could choose to be strait or gay. He could choose when to have sex and how. He learned about condoms and things I still hadn't learned about. There are some new terms out there that may or may not be old behaviors. Frankly, I think they have invented some new things- but perhaps that is another post.

A CHOICE?????

Tony and I being deeply planted in our born again fundamentalism at the moment were appropriately shocked. I called the school and hey guess what, I SIGNED THE PERMISSION SLIP!

Well, what happened to the tadpoles and circle diagrams? I wanted to know. The answer was that honesty and open communication is healthier than keeping things hushhush.

I started this parenting thing BELIEVING that I would be open, honest and communicate with my child....... But man, FIFTH GRADE SEX EDUCATION HAS GOTTEN WEIRD!

I am happy to report that I did listen to my son.

I am even happier to report that he has a crush,

ON A GIRL!

I guess he made the right choice for him (LOL) and the fundamental part of my conscience can breath and sleep well tonight.

For me, it is not about grandchildren. You know, when parents of a gay child say, "but I hoped for grandchildren"-- that is definitely NOT how I feel. I am still having children of my own.

For me, it is just a confusing day when fifth graders are presented with TOO much information that I honestly believe they are not mature enough to understand or sort through yet.

don't you agree?
-jane

Will there be a warrant issued for Mr. Bush?

Yesterday, as I am sure you have all read, Mr. Bush took full responsiblity for the government's failure at the federal level.
I found these article on the web CNN news site:


Bush: Gov't Didn't Do Job Right, I Take Responsibility
President Bush says Hurricane Katrina exposed "serious problems in the
response
capability at all levels of government" and that he takes
responsibility.


Bush: 'I take responsibility' for federal failures after Katrina
Bush to address nation Thursday about Katrina

Tuesday, September 13, 2005; Posted: 3:14 p.m. EDT (19:14 GMT)


President Bush talks to reporters Tuesday at the White House.


Bush takes responsibility (:47)

White House officials lost confidence in Brown (1:26)

WASHINGTON (CNN) -- President Bush said Tuesday he takes responsibility for the federal government's failures in responding to Hurricane Katrina.

"Katrina exposed serious problems in our response capability at all levels of government and to the extent the federal government didn't fully do its job right, I take responsibility," Bush said during a joint news conference with Iraqi President Jalal Talabani. (Watch Bush's comments -- 0:47)




SO my question is, will there be a warrant for his arrest? After all there was this article that I read from NBC news online:


Prosecutor Won't Hesitate To File More Charges In Storm Deaths
Louisiana's Katrina Death Toll Jumps To 423

UPDATED: 9:46 am EDT September 14, 2005

NEW ORLEANS -- There may be more criminal cases related to the rising death count from Hurricane Katrina.

Louisiana Attorney General Charles Foti said he will investigate every death at a nursing home or hospital that's not deemed to be from natural causes. And he said he won't hesitate to bring more charges.

The owners of a nursing home where 34 people died are free on bond after being charged with 34 counts of negligent homicide. Authorities said they turned down offers of rescue. Foti said it's "pathetic" they didn't evacuate.

The victims at Saint Rita's Nursing Home in Chalmette died Aug. 29, the day Hurricane Katrina hit.

Foti said that inaction by Salvador and Mable Mangano resulted in the deaths, and that Manganos were repeatedly warned to move patients. He said the Manganos had an evacuation plan but didn't act on it.

******************************************************************

So what do you think? Will there be a warrant for Mr. Bush????

One Question

David thinks I am writing too much too soon. So, ok, this morning, I'll give it a rest.

BUT, I have ONE QUESTION. . . . . . .

Why can't I go into a Baglez (with a z) store or any other restaurant that sells Bagels with 50 different flavors and get my favorite cream cheese???

The kind with green olives. No kidding, you take those Spanish green olives with red pimento and crush them up. Add a little bit of the olive juice to the cream cheese and MIX. It is the best cream cheese for bagels around...AND NO ONE SELLS IT!

It really is a pet peeve of mine!


-jane

Racism in 2005?

New Orleans has brought up many feelings for me. I am mortified by the tiny faces of hungary children; the stories of harsh shelter conditions; comments from Barbara Bush; stories that the new Texas shelter is more of a prison.... and so on.

I wanted to share some of my childhood musings on racism.

First, I believe that when society has a social problem, they often try to correct it by placing that burden on the next generation. The civil rights movement of the 1960's pulled our country into a place where we decided as a nation we were going to be EQUAL. They integrated the schools. Not the work place, not the churches, not the grocery stores or neigborhoods- let the children grow up together and solve our problem.

The real problem with this is that children have parents who influence them, but that is another post.

I was born in 1967, and was a child that grew up in an "integrated" system. Our city is pretty mixed as far as culture goes. I believe that most of us grew up with a new mind but there were some bumps on the way.

In kindergarten, my best friend's name was Kim. (hey Kim, if you're out there, give me a holler). Kim had the most beautiful braids with pretty beads. I wanted my hair to look like Kim's.

One day after school we went to her home. Her brother came downstairs with a nylon on his head. I was very confused.

I asked, "why you got your momma's nylon on your head?" He laughed, touched my head gently and said, "I am keeping the nappies out". What the heck are nappies? I thought.

One of Kim's beads had fallen out, her brother said, "Kim, get over here and let me fix those nigger braids of yours". His hand moved so quickly and the beads were all back into place.

I went home that day and asked my mother, "momma, can you put nigger braids in my hair?"

My mother's face was one of shock! I was in BIG trouble and I didn't know why. Was I spanked? I don't remember. I remember the corner, I remember the lecture about never using that word again. I remember hearing about relatives that fought for the freedom of black americans and to be proud of those relatives who died in the war. I remember being told to have respect and on and on and on....... hmm. I just wanted some pretty nigger braids, I don't know nothing about no war. I knew enough to keep my mouth shut because, I was in trouble!

Fast forward to my senior year in high school. Shortly after, I was working at KinderCare. I had the "afterschool kids". One of the kindergarteners got into a fight with a black boy. She used the "N" word. I was shocked! I was mortified! and I did what we NEVER want to do but we do anyway, I became my mother! The girl got the whole civil war, treat each other right, don't use the N word EVER lecture. Can I blame it on my age?

Both those parents held a meeting with me, together! They were mortified that I introduced a racial history to kindergartners that they didn't have! These two kids grew up together, the parent's felt like the girl probably heard someone in the boy's home use the N word when they were mad. I WAS IN TROUBLE AGAIN. That darn N word!

and here we are in 2005 debating about whether the delay in getting aid to New Orleans was racially motivated.

hmmmm THAT'S AN EASY ONE; YES, YES, YES, YES and YES.

While it is true (ok brotha buck, I'll give you some credit here) that Bush did not cause the hurricane, it has got to be true that his government failed the black and poor people of New Orleans.

Do you think that if a hurricane hit Cape Cod and the islands- you know somewhere near Hyannis and the KENNEDY COMPOUND- that there would have been a delay????

C'mon now, don't be so blind to our country's faults and say YES.

Because if it wasn't racism or classism than it is EVEN MORE TERRIFYING; it means that our country is no longer an effective super power and they are not telling us! Everyone better stock water, canned food and guns because our enemies will be coming!

Seriously, don't bother to store up anything- Racism is still alive and well and having a few good black folk high in politics isn't indicative that we are living Martin Luther King's dream.

Sorry if I offended ya'll, but sometimes the truth has got to be said plain and simple.

-jane

Gravity has attacked me once again!

Will someone PLEASE tell me WHY my profile is at the bottom of my page and HOW to get it back.

It is bad enough that gravity has invaded my life as I approach 40. Everything is falling down but does my profile have to as well????????????????

-jane

a birthday trip

My husband planned for me a birthday surprise today.

My husband who, spontaneous creativity is a swear word, actually planned last summer to take me on a "surprise" trip! He kept this secret for three months! Unbelievable.

This is the first time that I have ever allowed someone to take me out of state without knowing where I was going or when I would be back. It is a sign that I am finally in love with someone that can be trusted!

He took me to an absolutely breathtaking concert that has touched me deeply.

Has anyone seen Ronan Tynan perform?

I have to say that my preference of music is hiphop dancing from the 1980's, Madonna, Cyndi Lauper and those types.... my favorite rock group is the eagles...honestly, I like all kinds of music; but not "tenors".

Ronan Tynan, is an exeption to that rule. ANYONE with any inclination of what real music sounds like would be touched by this man's voice. He had me laughing one minute with his humor and crying the next.

If you don't know Ronan, look him up. http://www.ronantynan.net/

My only complaint is that he is a Yankees fan...ugh.

This man was an inspiration and a motivation for me to continue to fight against the obstacles in my life and to over come them. He is a man who was born with an ankle defect and was told by the doctors that he would never walk. He went on to walk (and win olympic medals); become a doctor (Trinity) and now a worldwide Tenor.

He is a hero to all children who are born with disabilities and ache to overcome. He is a hero to the every day person who aches to hear about the good going on in the midst of a chaotic, uncertain world.

Ronan Tynan, THANKYOU FOR SHARING YOUR VOICE WITH OUR WORLD. Thankyou for overcoming incredible odds and sharing your story with an open heart. Thank you for being more than just a survivor; for being a HERO.

as for me, after today, My wonderful husband Tony is my hero; for knowing my heart enough to touch it in such an incredible way by driving 3 hours to Hyannis MA so that I could be encouraged by a fellow survivor. (((Tony)))

-jane

****************************************************************************************************************

off topic;
what is up with those new cars that have signal lights on their side mirrors??????? They gotta go! I was driving home from the Cape tonight in the dark - they don't believe in street lights out there. Everytime I got behind one of these new cars, I thought there were 2 cars taking a turn!!!! Will someone please get rid of them!

one morning in 1990

I heard the alarm ring and flew out of bed. There wouldn't be much time. I jumped into the shower and took the quickest shower that I have ever taken. As I was putting my clothes on, I heard Jason, my 3 year old son waking up. He began the descent down stairs so I knew I had to hurry or he would help himself to everything in the frige. Running down the stairs, I tripped; summersaulted down the last three steps, and knew then it was going to be a day I would always remember.


After packing his backpack for the babysitter, we hurried to hop onto the local transit bus. He kept swinging his legs back and forth, kicking the irate passenger to his right. I didn't care. At that moment, my mind was worring about getting to the court on time.

I entered the courthouse. It was huge with stone walls, floors and ceilings. You could hear the echos of the pitterpatter of feet. Looking around I saw that everyone was dressed in black or navy professional clothes. They all look the same. In their business they moved too and fro, with glass eyes that reflected the cold marble of the courthouse.

I looked down at my dress, a cheap k-mart throw on that I had managed to sqeeze $7 from my welfare check for. I straigtened the bottom part of my skirt trying for an appearance of respectability. When I looked up, I saw him standing down the corridor with his mother and attorney.

Michael was my husband still, or maybe the divorce had gone through already, I can't remember. We were here to get rid of the visitation that he already had- four hours each Sunday. I had just left the battered woman's shelter and returned to my apartment with our son. I had recently reported him for what I thought at the time was cigeratte burns on my son's arms. Social services recommended that I get rid of all of his visitation rights, this would protect my son- and show them that I was protecting my son appropriately.

My attorney came to me. She said, "ok, we've made an agreement, I need you to sign".
"An agreement?" I asked. I hadn't even known there was a discussion on the table. My legal aid attorney had arranged an agreement with his vice-president of the Middlesex bar association attorney and now I was to sign it. Being the good girl that I was always taught to be, I signed. Somehow, my ex-husband had increaded visitation hours; every other weekend, every holiday, father's day and 2 weeks in the summer. I quietly asked my attorney, "aren't we here to prevent Michael from hurting Jason anymore?" She answered too quickly for my mind, "Well, like Attorney ------- said, that investigation is still on going and nothing has been proven yet. These are the typical visitation rights that a father is entitiled too...."


As I left the courthouse, I looked around once more. Mindless, emotionless, walking zombies with no understanding about what real life is about were moving around; writing and creating the outcome of people's lives that they would never see again.

I walked down Dekoven Drive, the road that paralells our Main Street towards the North end of town. Anyone could see that as I walked towards the North end I was leaving the cooperate side of town into the forgotton, slum lord owned section of Middletown. Walking towards me was a homeless man, pushing a shopping carriage full of garbage......I was afraid as he stopped and looked at me. He smelled, he was filthy and I was certain that he was going to kill me. I wiped the tear from my eye and looked up at him defiantly. Go ahead and kill me, I thought to myself, this life sucks anyway.

He spoke, "Are you ok?"
When I nooded my head, he continued pushing his shopping cart towards the courthouse. I looked up to watch him go. My heart beating as I saw him leave with the ominous court building behind him. What a contrast, that huge marble building with dead people walking around not understanding an ounce of human pain- and a shadow of an angel that society had thrown away.

I knew then, that the world as I understood it, had changed.

Hannah's Haven

Hannah's Haven is a dream of mine and Tony's. I remember the birth of this dream, it was one of the earliest moments when I was leaning to hear God' voice in the midst of prayer. I was a single parent in those days, struggling to finish college. I was seated on the kitchen floor, legs folded, reading the bible and praying.


I came across Isaiah 54. The words grabbed me from the pages of my bible and became living. "You oh barren women, enlargen your tent for many will be your children." It went on to speak into my life in more ways than I can write about now. For the sake of Hannah's Haven, it said to me, "your children will come from the east and the west" I could feel in my heart multitudes of children in exile coming to me and calling me momma.


I was doubtful at first, believing that perhaps I had gone a little insane. So I prayed, Lord, if this is from you, please instill in my heart a name for it. I believe that He called it, "Hannah's Haven", because Hannah wept for children and haven in the new testament is a place of rest and rebuilding.


Many years have passed since thost moments. I have had children pass through my home as foster children. They have touched my life in so many ways. I married my best friend Tony, who has picked up my vision for this dream. He is so much more level headed then I and decided to do it in a "better way".


Four years ago we purchased a fixerupper of a raised ranch. We fell in love with it because it has 6 bedrooms and was built on 2.5 acres of land. It is 2 miles from where my husband works and in a small city that has a diverse population.


We have purchased ducks, rabbits and other small farm animals. We are leanring how to care for them. We are also learning how to farm organically. We believe that animals will help children with attachment issues and farming will teach them incredible things while healing.

We are still building Hannah's Haven and hope to be licensed soon....

I want so much to take in those New Orleans orphans, but that is another post.

-jane

September's Rose

I have decided to enter the world of blog. There is no turning back now!

Much inspired by The Best Dog in The World and Brotha Buck. (check out their sites!)


I only hope that my voice isn't just one more empty voice that really does not need to be heard. I want to speak loud about my life, about life around me. I hope to touch someone's else's life just a little bit.

So many blogs out there, so many things being said that "duh" have already been said before.

Welcome to my corner of the blog world!

I am a happily married woman of 38 years, well next week I will be 38. I have a dream that I call Hannah's Haven. I am the proud mother of Jason (17) who has just started the last year of his childhood, his senior high school year. I am also mom to Caleb (5) who is my "super hero"; overcoming sensory integration disorder and who just began kindergarten. Then there is Hannah (2) who is in charge of us all! No one told me how much authority a 2 year old female demands!

I am planning to write about my family, my experiences growing up in the foster care system, my life as a social worker, a wife, a mother, a daughter, a friend and a christian. I want to scream out against abuse of many forms and share some of those experiences. Most recently my husband and I left our church family of over 7 years because of spiritual abuse. Yes, there IS such a thing and it is very humbling to say the least.

Anyone can LINK my blog that would like too, and please openly share your thoughts and sites. Looking forward to the blogging journey!

love,
jane;
God's September Rose.