Na and June need lots of counseling, prayer and patience. 

How do we deal with such heavy stuff all the time?  We just love God and love people.  Friday morning I woke up tired, stressed about some internal issues in our organization.  I arrived at The Well Center 1 at 8:10 to hear the sound of our students singing for morning worship.  My heart leapt.  They are so dear and precious, and their brokenness doesn't take away from that one bit.  In terms of the problems we can't help, well, we're starting to pray more.

About 100 yaba tablets and some ice were found their apartment.  Her boyfriend has 3 kids by another woman who was already in jail.  The boyfriend was supporting the kids by drug dealing.

Wan called me the next day, asking me to go visit Wi at the police station.  I arrived in the early afternoon to find Wan, her boyfriend, her mom and a friend waiting, along with Wi's 8 year-old daughter.  While we were waiting, Wan's mother, a long-time drug user herself, told Wan she would like to find out who the turncoat was who alerted police to Wi's activities.  I said that if we're going to play with stuff like that, we are the ones who are wrong.  It's a bit late to blame someone else.  The mother didn't respond.

When the visiting hour arrived, we filed into a narrow space along with a few others members visiting their own family members.  We were separated from the lockup by steel bar doors about 5 feet apart.  The lockup was evenly split with about 5 men and 5 women.  None looked older than 25.  Wi wore a tiny low-cut dress; her dreadlocked, tattooed boyfriend was shirtless.  She was in tears.

I didn't catch a whole lot of the conversation.  Listening to a second language in a noisy room with multiple simultaneous conversations requires concentration more than I am able to muster for more than a minute or two at a time.  My attention was mostly on Wi's daughter, distraught at seeing her mother locked in a cage.  There was a solid plate that she could just barely see over, so she was scrambling for a better view.  I picked her up and held her for the rest of the visit.

“Don't cry now,” Wi called to her, in tears herself, which of course only made it worse. 

Yaba, Thailand's most common drug, is a mix of mainly methamphetamine and caffeine with who knows what else thrown in by the labs that produce it in neighboring Burma.  It is rampant among Bangkok's young, especially the poor who have little else to do.  It is especially widely used by bar girls.  Users tell me it doesn't produce a high to speak of--just suppresses the appetite, revs up your system and teaches your body to want more.  It has tripped up several of our students, including some that have spent a lot of time with us and were making strides in their growth.  June, whom I wrote about in the last post, is now finally at home with us detoxing. 

If you are a drug counselor and would like to help train others, we would love to talk with you.

Wi will probably get several years.  When she gets out her daughter may be a teenager. 

One just finished college with an education degree.  The other only finished 7th grade, but has been working towards her G.E.D..

One is happily married.  The other is single with two children, and has had many relationships.

One looked healthy and bright.  The other, just coming out of a bad addiction relapse, looked gaunt and beaten, with even a tint of jaundice.

One grew up in our home, nurtured and provided for.  The other grew up with alcoholic parents including a father who would beat and kick her, at least until she left home at age 13. 

One will find a good job when she goes back to the U.S.  The other can barely hold a job. 

Our daughter Anna is visiting from the U.S. for three weeks.  Besides hanging out with us and being a refreshing encouragement, she is helping with the ministry and brushing up on her Thai.  She and her husband Ben plan to return in two years to work with us full time.  The most exciting thing she is working on is a plan to involve her church in a long-term partnership with us in Thailand.  We'll also be putting together some new videos.   You can read more about it here .

The other, whom I will call June, is not literally my daughter.  But we call her 'Daughter' and she calls us 'Mom' and 'Dad'.  June joined The Well 3 years ago, was anything but a model student, then last year spent a few months in a recovery program.  She recently tried working at factories but as we had feared, couldn't handle the 72-hour work week and other conditions.  Her relapse occurred one year after her previous relapse, which itself was triggered by a rape.  Relapse often happens at the one-year point in time.  We're hoping she will agree to come back to The Well.

I have often thought how different things might be had we been able to care for June since she was a small child.  She could have grown up nurtured and provided for, and given her strong intelligence might have an advanced degree by now.  She has been a follower of Jesus for 3 years and seen a lot of healing, but we've seen that lives as broken as hers seldom heal quickly. 

There are those who prefer to invest in caring for children over caring for broken adults.  "It's far better to get them before they are messed up," they say.  Of course they are right.  But as much as Jesus loves the little children, He loves broken adult children just as much.  And I find that investing years into their recovery can be just as delightful as investing years into a child.  Because somehow when I love people who in many ways can be so frustrating and outwardly unlovable, the cross means more.  Paul's point that Jesus died for us when we were His enemies rings loud and clear.  I find myself pondering the deep, deep love of Jesus--vast, unmeasured, boundless, free.

My two beautiful daughters sat across the table from me.  I beamed at them proudly.

It was just 3 years ago last January that we met Miaw, then a timid 17 year-old, in front of a bar in one of Bangkok's red-light areas.  I still shudder to think where she might be if that meeting had never occurred.  Gai as well has had his own struggles with addictions.  Both however are extremely bright and talented, and we expect will someday be leaders of many.  Meanwhile we pray for their adjustment to a rigorous study program.  

Payao students work to support themselves, including growing rice in the colleges own field, so Gai and Miaw's overall cost for tuition, room and board is only about $200 per month.  We already have a sponsor for Chompu, but if you would like to be a part of assisting Gai and Miaw take this exciting step towards helping to transform Thailand, please contact us .

I took Gai and Miaw, a young couple in our program, along with Bpop and Bpon, two single guys who have been spending with us, to do a small roofing project at Miaw's grandmother's house in the Lopburi province.  We were mainly going to replace a lean-to tin roof in front of the house, but the main roof, made from used bituminous tiles, also had some unplugged holes. 

Bpop and Bpon were building framing for the lean-to, so I got the caulk gun out to patch the holes in the main roof.

"Can I walk on that?" I asked Bpop.

"How much to you weigh?"  

"About 65 kilograms."  Ok, that was a bit light.  I actually hang right at about 67kg, or 147lbs.

"Yeah it will hold."

"Ok."  So up I went.

I tread lightly, trying to stay on the seams, and patched some holes.  No problems.  I asked Miaw to help spot holes from below.  She tapped on a spot towards the back of the house.  I found the spot, and just as I bent down to apply some silicone, gravity had its way, and the brittle tile caved in.  About seven tenths of a second later, the time it takes to fall about 8 feet, I was lying on my side on the linoleum/concrete floor below.

The next 5 seconds or so, or maybe 10, I don't know, were a few of the weirdest I've experienced.  Sort of surreal, outside of reality.  In a fright situation like that, the neurons fire like crazy, and you really can't think.  But then you do think, really fast.  I suppose it's what people mean when they say "My life flashed before my eyes."  That really didn't happen--I just lay there not moving while my brain frantically tried to assess the damage and figure out what to do next.  I felt like the wind was knocked out of me, so I moaned, panic-like, trying to breathe.  I wondered if I had broken bones.  I wondered if I would be able to get up--ever again.  I wondered what everyone must be thinking.

I discovered that I could breathe, and a little later tried to move.  There was some pain, but not intolerable.  Sitting up slowly, I looked up at the roof, and said, "I see I've made a new hole."

As it turned out, it wasn't so bad.  I landed pretty flat on my side, so the impact was distributed along the length of my body.  The main sore point is the around the illium, that big plate on both sides of the pelvis.  Ribs and neck are also sore.  My mouth apparently caught a piece of roofing on the way down, so I now have 2 small stitches closing up a small hole in my lip.  Had I been on a higher part of the roof, or over something else like the glass cabinet used for storing dishes, well, can you say "disastrous"?  I can walk, but slowly.  I think I'll stay home tomorrow.

Sam, 11, had just finished reading Circles of Seven, a Christian fantasy book in which the main characters must take risks and sacrifice themselves for their mission.  Seeing me hobble around the house, he remarked to Judy, in all seriousness, "I am afraid this ministry is going to kill my father."  Poor guy.

The ER bill came to about $8.45.  Oh, and the hole I made was easily fixed with some spare tiles that were lying around.

Pear, our wayward 14 year-old, has called a few times.  Her father died in a motorbike accident earlier this week, so she has come back for the funeral.  We saw her briefly--she obviously felt awkward, but clearly had not learned her lesson, thinking she can just live a free life as an adult.  Tonight she called, saying that she wants to come back and be in school.  However it may be too late, and in Thailand you can't start school mid-year.

We're really quite full and can't afford any more students, but when they arrive battered and bruised, we just can't turn them away.  Nong arrived a couple of weeks ago with a black eye, brought by one of our current students.  Last Monday we went to pick up Si, a 17 year-old mother with facial bruises and wounds on her neck, along with her 6-month old boy.  We've known her from her home village for a couple of years.  She dropped out of school, come to work in Bangkok, where she got pregnant.  After she was three months pregnant she found out the father already had a wife.  When the baby was born, she went to live with his family, along with the first wife.  However the father would drink and beat her.  Si is an orphan, said she's been sad all her life, but always did well in school and would like to be a doctor.

A not so sad case is Wan, 30, who was homeless and jobless, trying to figure out what to do next.   At the request of one of our students who used to do drugs with her boyfriend, we invited her to just spend a few days to sort things out.  Wan spent 6 years in California from age 9 to 15 and speaks nearly perfect American English.  There she had gone to a Catholic church some but did not understand much.  When she began to learn about Jesus with us she lit up.  Just today she told me how much she enjoys reading the Bible we gave her.  

Mae, one of our 14 year-olds, is enrolled in school and will begin on May 15.  She bought her school uniforms last week and brought them to show.  We'd like to see Mae be the first in her family to finish high school.
 
A young couple in our program has been wanting to to head to northern Thailand to Bible school this month, but they have been struggling with their relationship.  We've spent a lot of counseling time with them, but are still not sure what is going to happen.

Another student that has lived in our home for several months ran away.  We knew she had a drug problem and was at high risk.  She sent a text message to Khio, another of our workers, saying that she couldn't be a good person anymore.  We are told now that she is dealing drugs.  Jaimie's cell phone turned up missing soon after she left.

When you think you've heard everything, you haven't.  One of our former students has been enrolled in a Bible school, but not working.  She admitted last week that she has been “freelancing”--selling herself at night at times to make ends meet.  

From time to time we hear from wayward students.  One who has been with us a couple of occasions, leaving both times because of addictions, has been in contact again and is considering having another go.  Another who left on unpleasant terms called last Sunday, and we met up with her last Monday.  She beamed broadly, her eyes moist.  She is doing well, working at her step-family's bakery.

This is what we started The Well for, to see women bringing Jesus to their communities.  It made me feel like our 3 1/2 years so far in Thailand were just an introduction, that the real thing is just beginning. 

Prang and team sing a song.

Judy and I bless some folks with water.
 

As cool as Michaela is, she's no match for this grandma modeling her new vest.

The other day Bpon and her little brother helped me look for Pear.  We walked up On Nut Soi 10, Pear's childhood hangout.  Soi 10 is a busy narrow street with absolutely no sidewalks--more like an alley.  I was carrying my computer bag, and had to hold it in front or behind to keep it from being bumped by a passing car.  I am not kidding.  I thought to myself, “What kind of culture builds streets like this?”

We found Pear's father's home.  His landlord was there, said he had not seen Pear.  Then her father walked up, sporting a fresh tattoo on his lower left leg, so we asked him.  He was defensive, as if we were accusing him of hiding her, which we weren't.  Pear's relationship with her father had soured very quickly after she discovered his childish self-centeredness, so it was very unlikely that she would stay with him, but would maybe ask him for a little money.

From there we dodged cars for a couple hundred more yards to a computer game room where we figured we could find some of Pear's friends.  We ran into Mai, about her age, who also said Pear had not been around for quite a while, although she had stopped in a while back to say she was leaving.  

Walking back a different way, we called a couple of Pear's other friends, who both thought she must be with a guy who worked at Soi 15.  He used to call my phone every once in a while, asking for her in slurred speech I could hardly understand.  I pondered about getting the police involved, wondering if they would do anything.  “What kind of culture is this,” I thought, “that lets kids just fall between the cracks and throw their lives away?”

We found Bek, the guy everyone thought Pear was with, on Soi 15.  A homely, unimpressive young man about 20, he was working at a small machine shop.  He looked bewildered and said he hadn't seen Pear either.  He could have been lying.  Maybe if we told the police about him they would find out. Or maybe they wouldn't bother.

That night lying in bed I worried out loud about Pear.  Her mother had said repeatedly to wait until after the Songkran holiday, Thailand's biggest annual festival.  I figured that if we had no word by then we could get her mom to submit a report to the women's and children's police division.  “They won't do anything,” Judy said.  “Don't say that!” I retorted, raising my voice.  “Everyone says that!” 

“Why are you mad at me,” Judy wondered?  I had to apologize.  “I'm sorry, it's not you.  I'm angry at the situation.”

This sort of thing happens to cross-cultural workers from time to time, and it wasn't the first time for me.  Something in the host culture gets to us, and we get mad.  Sometimes it's right, sometimes it's wrong, and I'm not so self-righteous as to think mine was purely motivated.  I do love Thai people dearly and to me most aspects of Thai culture make us as Americans feel loud, rude and disrespectful.  But sometimes problems like this make me angry.  

This sort of laissez faire attitude is not unique to Thailand. It can be found anywhere including America, where many times in our inner-city work I felt incredibly frustrated at the lack of action to prevent kids from gunning each other down.  When we look at any culture through the lens of God's love and justice we will be shocked.  We do have to be careful not to judge or blame, whether another culture or our own, but if we compare the standard of light to darkness, as John does for instance in his first letter, we will be appalled and cry in horror.  People do what they know, and what humanity knows is selfishness.  Individuals, families and social groups will love themselves and little more.  It is God's people who must set a different standard, loving our neighbor just as much as we love ourselves, even if it's a broken kid that many might say is too far gone to help.  

I keep praying for a phone call, or maybe a voice calling from outside at 3am to open the door.

1. Pear ran away again.  I am so bummed.  She was to go on a 3-day excursion with her mom.  We sent her to her mom's home Friday night, but on Saturday found out they didn't go because her mom couldn't get off work, and that Pear had gone.

2. A young couple we married a month ago had a major fight right at one of our centers, that included her chasing him with a scissors.  Afterwards she said she really wanted to kill him.  We're still working through that one.  

3. A 19 year-old single mom has a loan shark debt that her ex-boyfriend got into, that requires her to pay about $5 a day for 120 days on a loan of a bit over $200.  It works out to nearly 500% annual interest.  We are talking directly with the gang leaders and asked if we refinanced it for her would they reduce the amount, but were denied.  We're not sure what to do next besides pray for lightning to strike.

4. It's getting to be Songkran time, Thailand's biggest holiday that could be called "National Water Fight".  The water fighting is fun, the drinking, craziness and what it has done to some of our students in past years is not.  We're trying to prepare our students and ourselves, but it seems that already Songkran-related problems are stirring.

I did make it through my Thai sermon last week with nobody laughing at the wrong time.

fi yuo cna raed tihs, yuo hvae a sgtrane mnid too  Cna yuo raed tihs? Olny 55 plepoe out of 100 can. i cdnuolt blveiee taht I cluod aulaclty uesdnatnrd waht I was rdanieg. The phaonmneal pweor of the hmuan mnid, aoccdrnig to a rscheearch at Cmabrigde Uinervtisy, it dseno't mtaetr in waht oerdr the ltteres in a wrod are, the olny iproamtnt tihng is taht the frsit and lsat ltteer be in the rghit pclae. The rset can be a taotl mses and you can sitll raed it whotuit a pboerlm. Tihs is bcuseae the huamn mnid deos not raed ervey lteter by istlef, but the wrod as a wlohe. Azanmig huh? yaeh and I awlyas tghuhot slpeling was ipmorantt!

Fascinating--I can read that easily, but this, John 5:19 in Thai, to me is laborious:
And Sunday I hope to give a whole message in Thai for the first time. Sigh. We'll see if I make it.

Lent 1000 baht (about $32) to a student who called at 7am asking for help to get to a doctor. He'd had a nasty stomach ache for a few days, getting worse.  We tend to take Jesus literally when he says to give to people who ask to borrow from us, unless they develop a bad track record.  Hardly anyone has.

Did some straightening around the house, collected dirty clothes for laundry.  We have a helper who does laundry and general cleaning for a few hours on Saturdays. Judy and Jaimie were away at the beach with Heather and Hannah Hook, visiting from the U.S.   

Tried unsuccessfully to fix our front sliding screen door, which had fallen off its track and was scratching the floor.  We rent, but tenants here are generally responsible for most home repairs.

Worked on financial stuff for Monday night's board meeting.

Walked Marquita out to the main street (about 10 minutes) to get a taxi to school, to practice with friends for an upcoming lipsync contest. 

Worked quite a while with Pear on learning to play the djembe, an African hand drum.

Talked for a while with 2 girls from Center 3 who came to study but were waiting for the teachers to show up.  Every Saturday a few of our teenagers do remedial study here to prepare themselves to get back into school.

Biked to 7/11 to put funds into my prepay phone account.  Here most people use prepay, which is quite affordable.  This particular phone has unlimited calling for about $12/month.  It can be somewhat unreliable, but works well at home and saves a lot of phone cost.

Discussed upcoming class scheduling by phone with Bee, our Center 1 coordinator. 

Judy, Jaimie, Heather and Hannah returned from the beach, Jaimie with bad sunburn from apparently bad sunscreen.

Helped Judy move a monster 8ft. long fish tank cabinet in our entryway so we can open more windows--it's getting hot.  The tank is empty but the massive cabinet was still impossible to lift.  It fortunately slid well and didn't scratch the stone floor.

Dusted off my bass and Strat guitars and tested out amplifiers borrowed from Center 3 in preparation for Sunday.  The Strat actually had a broken string from just sitting in the case for I don't know how long (I've had no amp).  We've done sort of informal outreach groups on Sundays for a year, but are now launching a definite church plant.

Talked with Heather, Khio and Judy about inventory management changes for our products sold in the U.S..  Heather has been managing our home-based marketing completely as a volunteer.

Lent 500 baht to another student who called needing help for her mother. 

Talked with Dao and her boyfriend/fiance, and fellow staff Khio about future plans for them and Dao's 4 children and neice. 

Helped Sarah Bennett, a photography student visiting for a couple of weeks, get started shooting product shots of some cards.

Spent a while with Pui, who returned after running a way a month ago for whom she hoped would be the guy of her dreams.  He turned out to be more interested in his friends and video games than in her. 

Worked with Pear some more on the drum.

Onn called--a woman she knew from bars where she used to work called asking for help for her two teenage neices.  She wanted them to come talk to me.  They showed up last night at 11:30.  Only one neice came, whose right eye was stuck closed from apparent pink eye.  She was also exhausted, and lay down on a couch and went right to sleep.  Her aunt came and picked her up at 6 this morning to take her to a doctor. They are all undocumented from Onn's country, so have limited options.  They also reported that the younger neice, 17, has worked as a maid for 2 months with no pay, apparently being taken advantage of for working illegally.

One of our teen students called after midnight, saying she was trying to get home to her province of Surin but was stranded at the bus station there, that her mother wasn't sending anyone to pick her up and everyone else she tried to call wasn't answering.  I said I'd be happy to help however I could but Surin was a good 6 hours away.  She said to never mind, she'd figure something out.

Overall, a fun but busy day, but bummer that there was almost no family time.  Spring break is coming soon--hope to get some good time with Sam then. 

Plah came to Bangkok with her family not long ago and was taken to work at a bar.  It only took a day on the job for Plah to decide it wasn't for her.  She came to The Well, followed shortly after by her 16 year-old sister. 

Once again Plah was faced with standing up to her family--an incredibly tough task in East Asia where family loyalty is everything.  She flatly turned down the offer, prompting her aunt to fly into a rage.  Plah's aunt threw her down, fell on her and whacked her head against the floor, causing a minor concussion.  Then she ripped off Plah's shirt and called the neighbors to take note of her disobedient niece.  Thank God the concussion was mild enough that Plah was able to run away and get back to her home at The Well Center 2.  She had some vomiting and of course a nasty headache, but she will be fine.  Plah says her family doesn't know where Center 2 is, but even so we will need to be on our guard.

I don't know what to say.  Why are people so mean?  Why does this stuff happen to innocent girls in so much of the world?  We all know it does, and it's why human trafficking is getting so much interest.  And to be honest, if I posted an image of adorable little Plah, those big eyes would no doubt cause more than a few readers to click the Donate link here.  Maybe someone might even click Contact Us and offer to come serve.  For privacy reasons I won't post a photo, but if you wanted to do either or both of those things of course I wouldn't mind.  Maybe I'm twisting arms here, but it's not manipulation when it's the awful truth, is it?

Seeing Plah last night sitting up on her mattress, her voice weak and round eyes saddened, I imagined doing some head bashing of my own, Chuck Norris style.  But Good Friday is coming up, reminding us of the fact that following Jesus calls us to defeat evil through suffering under it.  So instead I pray desperately and write a blog post.

We now have close to 60 enrolled in 4 centers.  The latest newcomer--a 19 year-old whose boyfriend took off just when their son was born 2 months ago.  Without a miracle we're soon going to have to start turning people away--out of space, short of workers, funding getting tight.  It's a nice problem to have, but we're praying for that miracle.

So for better or worse, while I have had some forced rest over the last 2 weeks, it only meant Judy had to work harder.  Last night she exclaimed, "The Well is my entire life."  Yeah, I know. 

There have been some extra discouragements lately.  We've been hit by some bouts of extra immaturity with some of our students.  One teen left a few weeks ago for a parent's nightmare in his upper 20's with a 6th grade education, ample tattoos and no solid work record.  What does she see in him?  We don't know.  Then last week Pui, the 16 year-old who was gang-raped in November and has been staying with us, ran off, or snuck off, for a guy as well that we have never met.  At The Well Center 1 we've seen some disheartening meanness and rudeness, prompting Judy to suggest that maybe we should shut the place down and make everyone rent rooms outside.

None of this is new--it's just one reason why things never stop for us.  Yet even in discouragements like this there is always light.  Pear, who turns 14 on Tuesday, is growing more solid and adorable each day.  Gai and Miaw, a young couple we've worked with for 3 years, most of that time separated, are doing great and were remarried last Sunday.  Another student we love very much returned last week after a 9-month absence.  The young husband of one of our teen girls became a Christian 2 weeks ago.  Prang and Michaela in Buriram are seeing amazing things happen practically every other day.  More on that in another post, maybe tomorrow.

And of course, sickness makes one especially grateful for health.  Pain-free swallowing is a beautiful thing.

I am a servant, I am listening for my name
I sit here waiting I've been looking at the game
That I've been playing and I've been staying much the same
When you are lonely you're the only one to blame
 
I am a servant, I am waiting for Your call
I've been unfaithful so I sit here in the hall
How can You use me when I've never given all
How can You choose me when You know I quickly fall
 
So You feed my soul and you make me whole
And you let me know You love me
And I'm worthless now but I've made a vow
I will humbly bow before You
Oh please use me, I am lonely
 
I am a servant, getting ready for my part
There's been a change, a rearrangement in my heart
At last I'm learning there's no returning once I start
To live's a privilege, to love is such an art
But I need Your help to start
Oh please purify my heart
I am Your servant

©Larry Norman
Words and Music by Larry Norman
 

I've written about Pear in several posts since we met her about 6 months ago.  She was adorable from day one with her button nose, disobedient wavy hair and impish gregariousness. "I want her!" exclaimed Judy.  At the same time she was wild, acting out the chaos of her unmanaged and unloved life.  She will soon be 14, but has already had far too many experiences a child should never have.  At first she stayed at one of our women's centers but did not thrive.  She talked often of wanting to run away and sometimes did take off with permission.  One of those nights she ended up being raped by an older teen.  Craving attention, she would make up stories about herself that we quickly exposed as false, which only made others at The Well completely annoyed.  Finally Pear ran away and didn't come back, right before she was scheduled to start school after a year and a half absence.

She ended up working and living at a night-time restaurant not far away as waitress.  We went to eat there several times, finding Pear dressed in new sexy clothes that she said the manager bought for her.  We noticed that the main customers seemed to be single men.  One would come, sit and eat with a woman then leave with her.  Although Pear has since told us that she only waited tables and was not asked to sell her body, at the time we were very frightened.  She would sit and talk with us only briefly, guarded and reserved.  We asked the manager, a woman approximately 40, to please release her back to us but she refused, saying that Pear's mother had entrusted Pear to her.  We called Pear's mother, who said hadn't done that but at the same time she would do nothing to help. 

We were looking into getting the police involved when finally Pear left and called us from her mother's small slum home.  I talked to her a bit, then put her on the phone with Marquita, our 15 year-old.  Marquita then gave the phone to Judy, planted her arms firmly on my shoulders and ordered, "Dad, go get her now!"  I've told Marquita that someday God would take her passion for justice, now used primarily to defend herself in sibling rivalry, in a big way in His Kingdom.  This was a taste.  Within an hour Pear was in our home.  That was late November.

Over the 3 months since then we've enjoyed seeing Pear discover the joy of being a loved one.  At first when I would say, "I love you, Pear," she would look turn away with a short "Yeah."  Now she replies with a warm, "I love you, Dad."  There were a couple of tests.  When her father got out of prison just before Christmas, he immediately put Pear in the middle of his conflict with her mother, trying to manipulate her into choosing his side and sending her into emotional turmoil.  One day last month Pear ran off from The Well and I had to spend 3 hours with a volunteer tracking her down.  I knew that if we waited for her to return she would dig a hole for herself, and that she needed to know that she was so loved that we were willing to take any means necessary to hang onto her.  Since then Pear has settled down. There is no more making up stories, no more talk of running away.  She seems to have emotionally distanced herself from her father's unhealthiness.