"Hannah, those are your children."

I'm not one to immediately accept a person's claim that God spoke to them. But I had an experience that flipped my perspective around. . .

I was getting ready for work on the couch with a hand mirror putting on some eyeliner. I had my laptop open with a Francis Chan message playing in the background. For some reason, I zoned in with full attention when he started to talk about injustices across the globe.

He brought up sex trafficking and the evil it is in the world. He said we need to stop sugar-coating it and start calling it what it really is: "Little children being raped over and over again repeatedly".

My world stopped with that phrase. A clear voice hit my heart with huge force that said: "Hannah, those are your children."

I lost it.           I fell to the ground.        I knelt.           I sobbed.
I sobbed so hard and loud and long into that scratchy carpet.

I couldn't handle that. I could not handle that MY children were being treated SO wrong-- that they were hurting SO bad and needing SO much love and I was across the ocean not being able to give it to them.

I rejoice that we serve a God who is capable to hold their hearts close to His and keep them safe until I can sweep them up and kiss their cheeks with love and dance their souls to freedom.

Someday soon, I'll get to write a blog with their names included. I'll know what their favorite colors are and the best way to make them smile. I'll be able to recognize them by their laughter and will tell them that on March 15th in a little living room, God told me that they were mine.