2017: Year End Reflections

Earlier this year, I asked the Lord for a spirit of love. I needed to learn how to love with no limits and no expectations from others. I also wanted to learn how to experience a love that is present in every moment. I wanted this year to embody the kind of love that God has for me. The type of love I was asking the Lord for was one of accountability; I needed the Spirit of Love to keep me grounded—by humbling me and keeping me teachable and authentic to my core. This year, I desired to rise higher in my interactions and dealings with others. I longed to have grace and view the best in ALL things, even in challenging circumstances. As I reflect on the year 2017, I realize that my character has been strengthened through the beautiful art of love, grace, and humility.

Korean Earthquakes: The Workplace

In 2016, my husband and I took a leap of faith and moved halfway across the world to teach English abroad in South Korea. Our move was bold and adventurous, especially coming from the smallest state in the United States, Rhode Island. We had this dream to travel the world, live, thrive, and be exposed to different cultures- be one with the natives of the land. Our time in Korea has been dynamic and outstanding; a season in my life I will treasure forever.

However, my exposure in the workplace has often left me feeling like I’ve been placed in the epicenter of an earthquake; an earthquake that would come suddenly with no warning or time for preparation. This year, my request for ‘A Spirit of Love’ has been tested with the ground shaking viciously from underneath me. I could blame it on the Korean hierarchy system, unruly colleagues, or the challenges of living and working in a foreign country- but I won’t. The Korean Earthquakes I have experienced stem from the lessons I needed to learn to sustain and endure the heart of love I asked for at the beginning of the year.

These Earthquakes chastised me to no end. I’ve been placed in situations where I had every right to defend my case or either accept my fate by exuberating love and mercy. Usually, I did not have a long time to thoroughly think about my response or reaction to any given situation. My only option was to make a choice whether I would forgive the seemingly unforgivable and demonstrate love with grace and humility, or live up to the foolish preconceived notions about Western foreigners. It was never easy!  Just like escaping an earthquake, I often felt like running from the wreckage. But in order for growth to happen, I had to confront the nonsense head on instead of running from it.

I must admit my life in the Korean workplace hasn’t been all bad. I loved my country school. My colleagues, administrative staff, and students welcomed me into their school community with open arms. I never felt like an outsider there. When the headmaster and assistant principal heard the news about my pregnancy they offered their congratulations and constantly checked in with me every week to see how I was doing. My last day there was bittersweet. I will genuinely miss my country school. They were the calm away from the quakes at my main school. So in the end, Korean Earthquakes have taught me lessons about love, grace, and humility.

Foreign Pregnancy: Tough Skin

Being a pregnant black woman, living outside of Seoul, is very rare. I would walk down the street with piercing stares that would make me feel as if I was a freak of nature. I would counter these experiences with the thought, “Okay, I’m probably the first foreign pregnant woman these people ever have seen.” But after a while, the stares started to hurt, and the joy of pregnancy began to fade. I was gracefully broken throughout my whole pregnancy in so many capacities. I’ve learned endless lessons of endurance, steadfastness, and turning of the other cheek. I got a more in-depth understanding and revelation of my process by relinquishing my control; allowing life to open my eyes and reveal to me my inner identity; my deep-rooted divinity.

Eventually, I stopped trying to define happiness through others; and started to see the seed growing inside of me as one of the greatest treasures ever to behold. Soon after, stares did not bother me. I embraced them by flaunting my massive belly. Personal joy was the lesson I had to learn on my own. Joy had to be defined by me. I had to find purpose and the beauty of creation in it. My foreign pregnancy produced within me tougher skin, and I am forever grateful for it.

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My Joy: Micah Isaiah

My son’s story was already being written way before my husband and I were even cognizant of him. Even in the womb, he taught us what it really meant to fight to live. His warrior-like spirit arose first out of a fertilized egg, transpiring into many cells. He then trekked a traverse journey into my fallopian tubes; entering the darkness of my womb; attaching himself to my uterine wall; while radiating his marvelous light. It’s a love untold until fully experienced.

My little Isaiah does this thing where he stares intently at his mama during feedings. He knows when my attention is focused on him or elsewhere. Through his little eyes, he sees the reflection of the images I’m watching. His innocence is a direct reflection of what my husband and I expose him to. The way in which he sees the world around him, his surroundings, and the sounds that consume him; references back to his father and me. The tone of our voice, the beating of our hearts, our interactions with each other and others– is a mirror of who we are in him and who he is in us.

Love At Every Turn: Saeronam EM

“You’re blessed when you care. At the moment of being ‘care-full,’ you find yourselves cared for.”~Matthew 5: 7~

My husband and I have been fortunate to be a part of an amazing faith-based community, Saeronam English Ministry. There were a lot of women from the church that helped me tremendously after giving birth to Isaiah. Their love, presence, and kindness towards my family have meant the world to me. My transition back home from the hospital with a newborn was very smooth because of them.

God looked out for me by allowing me to be pregnant at the same time with one of my dear sister-friends from church, Jane. She was five weeks ahead of me. She had a girl. We both were first-time moms experiencing the highs and lows of pregnancy in a foreign country. I genuinely appreciate Jane and her husband, Paul. Anyone who knows me knows I ask an endless amount of questions. Thankfully Jane has always been patient enough to answer them to the best of her ability. It was great to have someone to talk to that understood the season I was undergoing, because they, too were going through it themselves. Post-Korea, I’m sure we will all still be connected with each other because of our shared experience here.

Then there is my Chinese-Jamaican-Canadian Mama, Joanne who went above and beyond to make sure The Thompsons were situated well at home. One of the most significant lessons I learned from Joanne, W’lynn don’t be afraid to ask for help there are plenty of people here willing to help you.” Her sound advice was what made me adjust to motherhood so quickly.

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I can’t forget my Jamaican Queen Heather and my Bajan beauty Tisha who traveled about two hours to assist me at home throughout this month. Heather — in the midst of preparing for her final exams, graduation, exit out of Korea, and just the overall chaos of transitions — made time for me and my growing family. My Bajan beauty Tisha was committed to helping me. She always gifted me with endless laughter and joy.  A rare gift for a first-time mom that’s often sleep deprived. These two women made me feel at peace as I adjusted to my new role as a mother.

I cannot forget the elders that serve at EM: Lovely Sue, Grace, Heather and countless others that kept on checking in and sending meals our way- the love was remarkable and unprecedented.

Although 2017 has had its ups and downs, it will always be my most memorable year. Out of the challenges, there were always endless blessings of love waiting for me to acknowledge its existence. Life lessons I will cherish forever. As the dawn of 2018 approaches, I look forward to my family’s transition back to the United States but more on that another time. Happy New Year Everybody!

Signing Out,

~Esther Lynn~

Sunday, December 31st, 2017

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The Magnificent Year of Three

2017, has undoubtedly been the year of God’s favor. When Micah and I got married on March 15th, 2014, the infamous question at our reception was, “When are you guys having babies? Have babies!” Our relatives shouted with excitement, “Have lots of them too!” I, more so than Micah, would respond, “2017! In three or five years we’ll have children.” Micah was more sound in his response to our loved one’s inquiries; he would respond, “when God says it’s time, we’ll have children.” Sure enough, 2017 was the year when God said it was time. Our joy, Micah Isaiah, came into this world on Thanksgiving day, on a beautiful snowy morning. He was one week early.

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Wednesday, November 22nd, 2017: Precautions: Worst Case Scenarios

The night before delivery, I was at peace. I was beyond ready to meet my baby boy. The doctors came in my room to inform me of the worst case scenarios. If the spinal anesthetic doesn’t work, they would have to do a general anesthetic, and that included a breathing tube like my previous surgery, and I would be completely asleep. If I lost a lot of blood, then they would have to give me a blood transfusion, because my iron levels were deficient.

I listened to the doctors, and as they were speaking to me, I kept on repeating in my mind, “that won’t be my story. I will be up to witness my son’s birth, and the same blood that saved me before will be more than enough to get me through surgery.”What I’m living was once impossible to man, and somehow God said, “I’m making it possible for you.” Only a living God can turn a dream into a reality. Only the source of all my joy could have me witness what I cried endless tears of sorrow about, just years before. Our God is sovereign; his promises are real and thorough. Despite what the doctors said, we knew the arms that were ultimately giving us peace. It was well, and it is still well with our soul.

Thursday, November 23rd, 2017: Thanksgiving 2017: D-Day

I hardly slept the night before. There was so much to anticipate. My son coming into this world and my cesarean. I got up at 6 am and started getting ready. By the time the nurses came in, I was ready.

Time to go down to the operating room. I said to Micah, “follow us.”I’m with you babe,” he responded. The two nurses that were taking me down were so confused. “Where is the father going?” They asked each other in Korean thinking we didn’t understand. (Serious eye-roll) “He’s going to the OR with us. Dr. Kim said it was okay.” I responded. “Huh?” Confused looks came across their faces. The mad black woman, buried deep within me, started coming out slowly. I was so sick and tired of the cultural differences we had to go along with- with no viable explanation. What also frustrated me was the lack of communication- there wasn’t a note in the file; and there were so many different faces, exchanging looks of disbelief. “Husband In OR room?”In Korea, it is not common for the husband to be in the OR room during a cesarean birth. However, Dr. Kim and the rest of our medical team made an exception for Micah to be there with me.
After giving me the spinal anesthetic, which worked, thanks be to God! My beloved walked in the OR and came close to me, “I’m here, babe. Just relax. I’ll rub your temples for you.” As he did that, I could sense him praying for me quietly to himself. He took care of me; talking to me, soothing me with his words. He sang to me the songs we sang throughout my pregnancy. It Is Well, Draw Near, and Be Lifted Up by Bethel Music. As we sang together, I felt a lot of pressure. The doctors started counting, “hana, tul, set.” (one, two, three) Then I heard him, my precious Micah Isaiah, his cries were faint but strong. He just kept on crying. They wrapped Micah Isaiah in a blanket and brought him close to my face and rubbed him against my cheeks. I massaged his hair while endless tears flowed from my eyes. I was only able to touch him for one to two minutes. As the nurses quickly took him away, Micah went over to him but was unable to hold him at that point for they already placed our little one in an incubator.

Micah followed the nurses with Isaiah out of the OR, as the doctors finished up my surgery. A few hours later, I finally made it upstairs. They brought me to the nursery and from there informed me I couldn’t see my son nor breastfeed him. “Why?” The mad black woman started to rise in me again. Micah told me he hasn’t been able to hold him and won’t be able to hold him until we were discharged from the hospital. “What?!?! You’re his father!! He has to be with his parents!” Micah came close to me and held my hands, “Babe, they are running test and are worried about his oxygen levels.” “His oxygen levels? What’s wrong with them?” I asked. “They dropped below 90. They have to do a blood test and chest X-ray,” He responded.

Our son was born with an enlarged heart and was unable to breathe on his own. The first 72 hours after his birth, Micah was only able to see him for 30 minutes a day, through the nursery window. I was unable to see him at all the first 24 hours. I was on bed rest because of the spinal anesthetic they gave me before surgery.

Friday, November 24th, 2017: Emotional Rollercoaster

I was an emotional wreck. I couldn’t believe after carrying my child for nine months, loving him, bonding with him, preparing and praying for him. Neither one of his parents were able to be present the very moment he needed us the most; the hours after entering the womb of this world. It was heartbreaking and was nothing like what we imagined in our minds. As the hours slowly crept by a sense of peace came over us. Micah and I started speaking the word of God and praying for our boy. We knew God was our ultimate source. After a long while, I stopped worrying about the condition of my son. Something within me confirmed he would be okay. I texted my good sister-friend Kormasa; I wrote, “we believe God for a good report.” “Yes, great expectations are coming.” She responded back.

Saturday, November 25th, 2017: Great Expectations

Sure enough, God was fighting on our behalf! The blood test and the chest X-ray came back normal. Our son was able to breathe on his own. On Saturday, I was able to breastfeed him. The first time I held him, I just stared at him in awe. I was fascinated by his smile and his many facial expressions. I listened attentively to his cry capturing his voice to memory. I remembered exactly the amount of times he sneezed. He reminded me he was his father’s son when I heard his long farts and the twist on his face when he was pooping. He has his Papa’s nose and his Mama’s lips. His facial features are a beautiful blend of both his parents. I recall looking into his little eyes and wondering what was he thinking? I sang to him and had him listen softly to the worship songs I’ve heard throughout my pregnancy. It soothed him, and he fell asleep soon after. My precious baby boy, my hidden treasure, one of my greatest joys: Our little Micah Isaiah, I can’t believe he is my son. A double portion of the love I share with my beloved husband, Micah Josiah.

It’s been three weeks since we’ve taken him home from the hospital. Life’s been quite the adjustment since he’s fully entered our lives, but we wouldn’t change it for the world. He’s a good boy, and we love him more and more each day. Last week, we had our first doctors appointment for Micah Isaiah, and the doctors said, he’s a healthy boy and progressing very well. We praise God for his faithfulness and greatness towards us. I can’t believe he’ll be one month old as of next week! Time sure does fly by fast! Cheers to The Thompson’s Magnificent Year of Three!

Signing Out,

Tuesday, December 12th, 2017

~The Thompson Clan~

Achievement or Well-Being?

This morning I read a short article about how parents in the Netherlands raise their children to value education for their well being, rather than for achievement. The Netherlands has one of the top education systems in the world. Naturally, I was intrigued as to what makes it the top-ranked country in the world and what are they doing differently compared to my upbringing in the education field. One aspect that the article highlighted was students are encouraged to see themselves as they are without the pressure of performance, competing with their peers, and grades.

I grew up in a household where education was everything. You go to school to apply yourself, be the best student, and bring home only the best grades. My parent’s always reminded my siblings and me of the opportunities that were easily given to us. In Haiti, they had to pay for school, prepare their own lunch, and travel far to get to the school building. In America, the school system provided school bus transportation, free education, and depending on your home situation, free lunch. My parents would say we were privileged compared to other students across the world and they were right. Sometimes I miss those days when my only responsibility was to be a student.

However, as I think about my son and have discussions with my husband about how we want to raise him, I can’t help but wonder, is that all there is to education– going to school, getting good grades, and being the best? How about the wholesomeness of the child and how will we make sure, as parents, that our children feel a sense of completeness within themselves, despite the pressures to conform, and perform in an educational world saturated with the need to prove self-worth by achievement and accolades from others?

I must give my parents credit because they raised me up to be a passionate, inquisitive, and curious young woman. I understand I was raised and brought up in a different time period. My parents projected upon my siblings and me, what their parents always wanted from them, or what they wished they could’ve had for themselves when they were my age. So it’s not a surprise that in elementary and junior high school, my parents expected me to apply myself. In high school, I had to remain focus to be qualified for the university level. During university, the expectation was to do well so I can get a good paying job. The problem is at these crucial stages of my educational journey; I lost my sense of purpose because I was too busy competing with my peers. I saw myself in who ‘they‘ were and not in who ‘I‘ was–I think that’s something many young people can connect with.

Competition.jpgAs a young teen, I maintained a mindset of always being the best and working hard. By the time I entered high school the value of education had become a source of achievement, rather than the awakening of my mind. At Mount Pleasant High, I was not only in competition in the classroom, (that’s if I was even interested in the content matter) image also became a defining factor of who I was and how others saw me. What I wore, the style of my hair, my friends, and overall demeanor. My intellect took a backburner, and if I was in good terms with the teacher, grades were not a problem. High school was all about graduating and getting into university.

My college years were a whirlwind of emotions. I entered a different world, with student peers that had a broader perspective on life and wasn’t afraid to share their opinions and worldview in the classroom. I felt like the invisible man occupying space. I thought college was just about doing well, earning a degree, and at the end of all your efforts, getting a good paying job. The reality of it all is college was a time in my life where I recognized my achievement gaps. It was no longer about competition or image–it was about proving myself worthy of the opportunity placed in front of me. For so many years, my mindset was all about being the best and achieving good grades to be successful. It never occurred to me, till then, the importance of communication, working collaboratively with different people that are entirely different from me and the importance of learning to appreciate and utilize my voice as well as life experiences to contribute to what should’ve been my real educational journey from the beginning.

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The beauty of different seasons and stages I have encountered throughout my academic journey is the growth and progress that it has made in my well-being. My parents were right by teaching me the value of education at a young age. Although I got lost along the way, it was the many lessons I allowed myself to learn throughout my process that has shaped me into the woman I am today.

So, as I think about my children and how I hope to raise them up, I pray my husband and I will be parents that teach them how to be confident individuals. I hope our children will welcome different opinions and have the courage to stand in their convictions in what they believe to be real and authentic, while also being receptive to what others can teach them. I have no desire to move to the Netherlands, but I sure can learn from their model and apply it to my household.

Signing Out,

~Esther Lynn~

Saturday, October 14th, 2017

A Fight to the Finish

This morning I am reminded of Apostle Paul’s famous words, “I have fought the good fight, I have finished the race, and I have remained faithful.” (2 Timothy 4:7) I’m reminiscent of these words because lately, it feels like I’m fighting to finish strong during my last several days at work. As of this week, I have only 30 days left until my maternity leave starts. Remaining focused in the present moment is a challenge. My son consumes my mind and the upcoming transition back to the United States keeps me distracted and staring off into space.

The difference between Apostle Paul and me is he was actually at the end of the finish line. He lived a gruesome but fulfilling life. He endured the greatest storms and not once did he recant his trust in God. He walked into situations where the result was often unknown. It’s almost like he never had his own set of expectations as to how things would turn out. He only expected God to take over and guide his path through the dark valleys of uncertainty. He had hope that God will attend to his needs as he climbed up the troublesome mountains of this world. Paul was never sure of the end result here on earth. But he knew what awaited him in glory. For him, the fight to the finish to see the greater glory of what awaited him was worth far more in comparison to the precariousness of this passing world.

I glean on Paul’s perseverance. I read his words and allow them to uplift me; as I take hold of what my present moment has to offer me. An old Haitian proverb seeps its way through my pores and penetrates my heart, “Deye mon gen mon.” (Translated in English, “Beyond the mountains, there are more mountains.”) An idiom most Americans could relate to is, “The grass isn’t greener on the other side.” As I go through this waiting period towards the finish, I must remember to keep my head focused in all situations and live in the present because that’s what dictates the outcome of my future. Endure hardships by not easily being distracted by fears of what’s to come or what currently is–I must remember to trust steadily in God, hope unswervingly, and love extravagantly.

I believe what Apostle Paul was trying to convey to Timothy is a persistent pace forward is needed when running a race that feels everlasting. Emotions are misleading if one allows them to take over. His words serve as a reminder, a forecast of what can happen if one allows the anxieties of tomorrow to cloud their judgment about today. Therefore, I must keep my head above the torrent of negative thoughts and strive to finish strong. I must fight the good fight, finish the race, and remain faithful till the very end.

We are all in the process of becoming. I just live to speak mine out loud.

Signing Out,

~Esther Lynn~

Saturday, September 30th, 2017

Gracefully Broken

For the past several weeks I’ve been listening to Tasha Cobbs, Gracefully Broken on constant repeat. I’m in my third trimester of pregnancy with only nine weeks left before I meet my little boy. Gracefully Broken, is how I would define this journey into motherhood.

Before pregnancy, I was very active; always riding my bike, working out, hiking steep mountains, traveling–the list goes on and on. I was always doing something. Hubby and I were always on a MicNilly Adventure. When I became pregnant, everything changed.

Almost everything I loved to do became embellished with constraints. It was like I started a new process of becoming that I consistently found myself wrestling. It was bizarre because on the one hand being pregnant was a blessing, but on the other side of the coin, I had to find myself somehow within my new limitations. And I must admit at the beginning stages of pregnancy it was tough redefining routines and overall just the way in which I thought about things. I always had to be aware of the life that was growing inside of me.

Eventually, I got to a place where I surrendered the freedoms of my past (life before pregnancy) to embrace my hidden treasure wholeheartedly. In my process of complete surrender, I’ve drawn closer, like never before, to my mother. Saturday mornings are our chat days. She will often share stories about me and my siblings I never was aware of before. Through her stories, she eases my many anxieties. Reassuring me at the end of it all, I’ll look back at this time in my life with gladness. The process of life is like a never-ending cycle. It doesn’t matter how old you get, the people that were always there from the beginning will almost always be there at the end.

My mom just recently immigrated to the United States when she became pregnant with my older sister. My mom was apart from her family during her first pregnancy. It was just her and my dad. Fortunately, they established strong relationships within their church, and that’s what kept her sane throughout her first pregnancy. Years, decades later, her second child is experiencing the same thing in a foreign land. It’s beautiful that my mother can still find my heart, navigate through my thoughts, even though I am thousands of miles away. What makes these precious moments with my mom over the phone so special is she speaks to me with so much grace, admiration, and love.

So, as I reflect on my beginning stages of pregnancy to my current stage–I am so glad I had to get to a place of complete surrender. I am grateful that God had to deconstruct my independence entirely for me to be open to what this new level could and would teach me. There is a reason why pregnancy takes nine months. As the child develops within the cocoon of the womb, the woman is gracefully woven into a mother. Once the child evolves out of the darkness of the womb, gracefully broken, seeking his mother’s voice, comfort, and smell. They both blossom with unconditional love towards one another.  Carrying life is a beautiful masterpiece that can only be painted and told by the God of all creation. Yes, I’ve been gracefully broken, and I am beyond grateful for it. We are all in the process of becoming. I just live to speak mine out loud.

Signing Out,

Saturday, September 23rd, 2017

~Esther Lynn~

Pregnant In A Foreign Country

Many have been asking the undeniable question, ”How does it feel to be pregnant in a foreign country? How does that even work?” I’m sure if I was living in the States and one of my girlfriends was pregnant abroad I would be asking the same question. So, it’s easy to sympathize with the concerns of family and close friends.

I must say long before I became pregnant I started researching and talking to different expats that had their babies here in Korea. Out of all the different women I spoke to, and all the information I gathered, nothing made me apprehensive about becoming pregnant. My biggest concern was finding an English speaking doctor that had experience working with foreign women with my past medical condition. It did not take long to resolve that issue.

My gynecologist, Dr. Sejeong Oh from Queen’s Medical and OBGYN Clinic, not only speaks excellent English but is highly attentive to me, my baby, my concerns, and has the experience I needed to trust her. I am very thankful and grateful for her. A lot of expats recommended her because of her compassionate nature towards her patients, her willingness to answer questions, her ability in elaborating on complicated medical terms and providing a comfortable place in her clinic for her patients. Dr. Oh highly recommended my obstetrician, Dr. Sumi Kim from St. Mary’s University Hospital, to deliver Baby T. Both doctors are women (which was very important to me personally) who are well trained and experienced in their fields. They both communicate effectively and have been providing me with the best possible care.

I first started seeing Dr. Oh when I was four-five weeks pregnant. After confirming my pregnancy, she gave me a form for the Pre-Natal Care Discount Voucher. It’s better known as the Kook Min Hong Bok Card. The pregnancy voucher entitles women a maximum subsidy of 500,000 KRW (about $450 USD) to pay for doctor visits and other expenses regarding the medical care of the baby. Since being pregnant, I only had to pay an equivalent of $15.00 out of pocket. The National Health Insurance System in Korea is amazing compared to what I use to have in the States.

As for my job, my contract entitles me to three months of maternity leave. Another perk is during the first and third trimester I’m able to leave work two hours earlier than usual. In Korea, government employers are very sensitive towards women who are in their early and late stages of pregnancy. They know it’s a very critical time for the baby’s development. I work at two schools after the logistics of my maternity, and early leave was figured out. A lot of my colleagues wished me well and were very excited about my pregnancy. Of course, they had endless questions that varied from personal to superficial (which I expected), but the overwhelming amount of love I received was astounding, to say the least. My country school always gives me vegetables from the school garden to take home with me. At lunch time, they always have fruits and fresh vegetables for me to eat.

My students started suspecting I was pregnant as of last week. One of my fourth-grade girls asked my co-teacher if I was pregnant and less than five minutes later the news spread like wildfire. I remember last Friday walking on the school bus, and countless students were pointing at my stomach saying, “Willynn Teacher, 아기, 아기 (baby, baby).” “Yes, baby,” I responded and then came the wave of applause and little people with excited faces.

I cannot fail to mention the extraordinary support Micah and I have at our local church, Saeronam English Ministry. I remember during my first trimester I had the weirdest form of morning sickness. I was constantly nauseous, but not to the point of throwing up. For two weeks, I had no appetite. I couldn’t take certain smells, and I was always tired. Several women from the church offered me help and support. They calmed my many anxieties. They bought me herbal remedies that helped with nausea and were always present. Not a day went by without at least one of the women from the church checking in on me. I’m so grateful for them.

Pregnancy in another country could be scary for most, but as for me, my heart is at peace. Micah and I have outstanding people in our community who have become adopted parents, siblings, and of course amazing friends. The Thompson’s are truly blessed. Of course, I miss my biological parents, especially my mama’s cooking. But even from afar, they have been a tremendous support to us by asking what we need, sending us care packages in the mail, and making an honest effort to communicate with us once a week. Sometimes I’m just blown away by the amount of love that surrounds us near and afar. Yes, it takes a courageous soul to do what we are doing. However, you never know what outcome can come out of breaking out of your shell and doing something outside of the ordinary. Following faith requires much sacrifice, but sacrifice brings forth abundant rewards that surpass the understanding of common men.

Signing Out,

Esther Lynn

Sunday, June 18th, 2017

Inklub

My husband, Micah and I started a new YouTube channel called, the Inklub. Below is a description of what the Inklub is all about. I hope all my readers will check out our new channel and subscribe.

Inklub is a channel where we will share our writings to inspire, encourage, and sometimes even challenge our viewers to think differently. Most of our videos will be spoken word pieces, but we also plan to share songs, stories, and various other creative presentations.

Our writings are inspired by the world around us; whether it be our experiences or others. As we observe, we listen, we write and then speak out our perspectives.

We believe there is something undeniably therapeutic about words–the right words. That is why we are so adamant about sharing what we’ve written. We hope you enjoy this channel. Feel free to subscribe and connect with us.

Till Next time Friends,

Esther Lynn

Wednesday, June 14, 2017