Story #111 - Carried to Full Term and Natasha - Haymarket VA (USA)
“We don't advocate for babies. We advocate for mothers. This is where it starts.”
— Frances Robin, Founder and Executive Director of Carried to Full Term
On April 20, 2021, I drove to Haymarket, VA, to meet with Frances Robin, the founder and executive director of the charitable nonprofit organization Carried to Full Term. CTFT is a twenty-four + month housing program for pregnant and homeless women.
Their mission is simple yet monumental: to invest in stabilizing women and their families.
When I arrived, I was welcomed by Ms. Priscilla, the resident coordinator, who would introduce me to Natasha and her son, K., their only in-home residents at the time.
"COVID makes everything so challenging to handle," Ms. Priscilla said to me once we settled at the kitchen table, masked and distanced.
"I came over here a little before Thanksgiving 2019 and told Ms. France that I wanted to help and serve women. The work here is not just being present physically and ticking boxes. It's assuring that what the moms have signed up for is done and done well."
The Carried to Full Term program is aimed to bring mothers into a structure so that they can thrive over the years. They give them two years, but if they show progress and are eager to thrive, say, by going to school, we'll give them more time if needed.
Most of their residents arrive pregnant and, when they deliver their child and come back from the hospital, they get a full two weeks of bonding time with their child.
The postpartum care in the house is handled through partnerships. They have nurses come and volunteer to do care. Since many of the residents are nursing or undergo c-sections without necessarily knowing how to perform aftercare, the presence of volunteers makes a world of difference.
"All these people volunteer their time," she tells me. "Or I should say volunteered. That was before COVID."
Aside from the two weeks graced after they give birth, every mom in the house is given a weekly schedule she has to adhere to. It has everything: classes, appointments, work shifts, journalling moments, mealtime with their children, volunteering, and chores.
Ms. Priscilla handles setting up their care, bible study meetings, appointments with their social worker, nutritionists, therapists, financial advisors and counselors to establish their goals. If they breastfeed or receive assistance, whether food or affordable childcare, they also help set up everything.
The only aspect the mothers are responsible for is to buy their own food/ CTFT provides everything else, from laundry detergent to diapers.
As Ms. Priscilla explains, the resident earns points if she does what is agreed upon. These points will give her access to the next-door boutique to get something nice for herself or her children.
There is a mutual understanding between the coordinators and the mothers that they need to follow the structure and show progress to get the resources they need when they come to the house.
"We never kick people out unless there's a violation of a rule— alcohol consumption for example. If a mom leaves, say, before the end of the program, it's often because the structure is too much for her and she doesn't want to be here anymore."
While we talk, Natasha and her one-year-old son K. are in the living room adjacent to the kitchen and dining room. They watch TV and pay little attention to what is said at the table.
K. keeps throwing his green rubbery pacifier onto the ground, and Natasha keeps picking it up. Aside from the masks and the recorder that blinks between us, it's like being invited into someone's home for tea on a nice Spring morning.
Ms. Pricilla invites Natasha to join us, and I ask if I can take pictures while everyone's next to one another. She nods and says that having some pictures of herself and her son would be nice.
Her voice is soft and dim.
Ms. Priscilla facilitates the conversation that is at first difficult and somewhat uncomfortable. Despite conducting hundreds of interviews with new parents, I feel inadequate and let Ms. Priscilla take the lead.
"Just start with where you are from, Natasha," she says.
K. is wiggling on Natasha's lap, unhappy to have been moved away from the screen.
"I can say that I'm from Harrisonburg, but I came down here [Haymarket] a couple of years ago to live with my grandma. These are not really happy memories."
She becomes quiet, so I ask about her pregnancy.
"I found out I was pregnant because I had to have surgery to remove a cyst. During the pre-op appointment, the nurse did a pregnancy test, and well, that was it.
I had just moved out of my grandmother's house to go live with a friend, but I knew being pregnant in these conditions wouldn't work.
I googled 'maternity home near me,' and that's how I found Carried to Full Term.
A week later, I moved in with them."
I clumsily question her about her life before becoming a full-time resident of the home, but she dodges my questions.
Instead, I ask about being pregnant while living with other moms and their children. Ms. Priscilla helps her remember her roommates and her job before K's birth [she worked at the McDonalds down the street.]
We joke about working in the service industry and stealing fries — we both agree they are the best — and she opens up a little.
"Overall, she says, I had a good pregnancy. It was just long.
I got pretty nauseous at the beginning and kind of tough towards the end because he was a nine-pound baby, and standing all day at work was hard. I was so swollen, so I asked to stop working for a while, even though the rules here are pretty set about keeping a job."
Natasha explains that she had an anterior placenta and couldn't really feel him move. She struggled with anxiety during the last couple of months but was relieved when he turned out to be fine.
"Before I gave birth, she says, I was in labor for 36 hours but got the epidural, which was amazing. I had a second degree tear when he came out but felt nothing."
I smile and tell her that my midwife spent an hour sewing me up after my first baby. I say that when I asked how many stitches I had needed, the only answer I got was "just one… but a long one."
She smiles and looks at the floor. I continue my story, hoping that some honesty will help ease the tension, and tell her that I wasn't sure my daughter was mine when they put her on my belly.
"For me, she immediately says, when they put him on my belly, I started crying like a baby. Happy tears and overwhelmed tears.
I held him there for a while. I mean, the nurses took him to weigh him and do all the things, but after I went to a different room, I'm pretty sure I just held him for hours."
We talk about keeping a new human alive and how crazy it is that we are sent home on our own to do it.
Breastfeeding, in particular, turns out to be a shared challenge across all interviews I conduct:
"I tried to breastfeed for a couple of hours after he was born, but he wouldn't latch. He was always hungry, so we decided to give him formula.
I stayed at the hospital for two days, and then they sent me home with him.
To be honest, I was kind of disappointed about my postpartum period. I was anxious to go home and about having to take care of him by myself.
Miss D. and Miss F. were here when I came back to the house, but nobody helped me once I was set in my room. There was one other mom here with me, Mimi, who I liked, but she graduated. She used to help me when I ate by holding my baby, but that's the only help I got.
And now she's gone."
Natasha pauses for a second while pulling down on her son’s shirt.
"For the first two weeks, I could bond with him, and nobody bothered me.
But after that, I felt overwhelmed. So I just left. When he was three weeks old, I left with him because of postpartum (depression). I just felt very anxious about taking care of a baby by myself. It made me cry every day.
My mom offered to take me [she lives in Timberville, Virginia, about an hour and a half away from CTFT]. I moved back there, but she told me that I had to live with my aunt and grandma because my dad is disabled. I stayed for eight or nine months, but I couldn't handle my grandma. She likes to nag, and it's hurtful, and I decided to come back to CTFT when K. was almost a year old."
Almost immediately, Natasha apologizes for what she just said.
"The thing is, that the environment is a little toxic with my parents but we just found out that my grandma has cancer. It's everywhere and she probably has Alzheimer's too. I guess she doesn't mean to nag. She's just lost.”
We all smile, familiar with wanting to protect loved ones who are also incredibly hurtful and don't quite understand our desire for growth.
I ask about her mental health and if she's getting professional help. She's hesitant to share, a little "embarrassed," she says, so I tell her about my stay in a psychiatric ward as the best and most terrifying thing I'd ever done. She can relate:
"It wasn't until I came back here that I got (mental) help. It was hard. I suffered for a long time.
Eleven and a half months.
I'm seeing a therapist and a psychiatrist now. Well, I was seeing a nice therapist, but she left the practice. The new one is nice, but it still feels a little like a breakup. They put me on medications. It's been helping more. Before, I was very angry, and now I'm calmer within myself. It also gave me some perspective."
I ask what her schedule looks like daily and if the structure, as rigid as it can be, has helped her get back on her feet:
"At this time, I'm the only mom in the house. A couple of months ago, there were other moms, and it was okay. There was a lot of drama that didn't help anyone. So [to escape] I worked every shift I could, every day.
My son also started daycare. It's good. He likes it. He plays with other kids, and he's been talking a lot lately.
I'm proud of him."
"And you, are you proud of yourself?" I ask Natasha.
"Oh. That. It's harder to say I'm proud of myself," she laughs. "Some days, I struggle. But I think I'm moving forward. I'm actually in college right now. I'd like to become a nurse.
I'm a little shaky inside when I think about when the program here will end. The first time I came, I was only here for eight months. Now I've been here for ten. There's not much time left to go.
I'm anxious about just being by myself because it's a lot of responsibilities and can be lonely. Having a baby is overwhelming in general. But especially when you're on your own."
Her son grows restless. She puts him on the couch with the tablet and a pacifier. Then comes back to the table and sits.
Ms. Priscilla asks if having gone through the program and learned so much about herself, being a mom— and a responsible mom! — help relieve some of the anxiety?
Natasha looks at the floor and smiles shyly.
"Kind of. Not really."
"Think about your life before you came," Ms. Priscilla says. "Now having your son and learning how to navigate life and being a mom, does that perspective ease some tension? Not ALL the tensions, but some?"
"I guess so, Yeah."
"Today, you're doing very well. Not yesterday, but right now. You're doing much better than your parents and your family. You're living on your own in a residential home. You're not doing things because you're afraid we'll kick you out but because you understand that it's good to follow the covenants and the policies.
Good for you as a person.
You're far better off than a year ago, six months ago, or even four months ago. You really are. That's perspective. If you look at life through a smaller prism, it causes you to be less anxious. Never anxious-free, 'not gonna lie! But you're gonna do well, just like those mothers who came into the house, just like Mimi.
That's your future.
Not the past of your family, not when you were 20, but today and on, as a 24-year-old woman and mother. That's what you're looking at.
You're doing far better than you give yourself credit for. You're gonna be okay."
I ask how she feels receiving so many kind words.
Natasha whispers: "It feels good."
Tears fall off her cheeks, and she cries quietly.
I stand to get tissues for everyone.
I ask her what she would like to say to her old and future selves. The question unsettles her.
"I'm not sure. Maybe that I've got through some. I got help. I sometimes babysit Mimi's daughter and I'll probably keep in touch with her, so I'm not alone. She was here for three years. She knows."
And in the future?
"Maybe, 'Get it together!'"
Ms. Priscilla stops her and redirects: "It's not perfection that you want, but how to get over the bumps because there will be bumps. You have to tell yourself, 'These are the resources. I need to talk to this person. Etc.' Small steps.
No one has it together. I sure don't! You should see me at my house! Phew!
But think about life and people this way: a friend of mine used to live in Germany. The word 'shine' over there means that you're being fake, that you don't allow other people to see the real you. As humans, we want to shine a lot. Think social media. But when we sit together, we're just the same. We then see each other's humanness. That's when we start to heal.
To shine is to say, 'I have it all together!' But real-life isn't that. Not ever. Not for anyone.
The things that come into our lives to stop us—the bumps—we need to move past them. We need to move away from becoming pregnant at a young age and toxic family dynamics.
Without judging anyone, you need to understand that other people are floundering because they don't know how to move past the bumps. I'm sure some people from your old town are saying: 'Natasha did it: she got out. Other people have come around to help.'
And that's huge. So huge.
So don't lose yourself. As a mom, but more importantly as a woman. You're not a mother-being. You're a human being."
"I don't go to church, I say, but I will go to Miss Priscilla's church!
We all laugh and I continue:
”Breaking cycles are hard. When you meet bumps, you also meet humans. Because you can never do it on your own. I can see how attached your son is to you. And when there's attachment, there's everything.
It says a lot about you as a mom. It's powerful to choose another life for yourself. It's powerful to build a new narrative to reshape who you are and who you want to become. Maybe one day, you can support another mom the same way Ms. Priscilla and Mimi supported you.
By giving them a new story to tell."
I stand to get some pictures of Natasha and Priscilla. As we're about to head out, Ms. Frances, the founder and executive director of CTFT, enters the room.
K. runs to her and everyone says hi to each other from afar, except K. who runs towards her and jumps into her arms.
Ms. Prsicilla hisses jokingly: "She's his #1! Well… Mom is #1, she's #2, so I guess I'm #3!
Ms. Frances picks him up and walks into the living room.
Frances holds him up and kisses him on the cheeks: "His skin is warm, Natasha. Did you take his temperature?"
Natasha looks down and says no.
"No worry! It's probably just teething. Give him Tylenol."
I watch from afar as Ms. Frances and Ms. Priscilla entertain him while Natasha gets him his medicine. When she's back, she tends to her son and then hands him to Ms. Frances, who takes him outside for a short walk while we take photographs.
After the session, everyone comes back into the house. Ms. Frances and Priscilla are with me at the table. K. passes out in front of his blue tablet while Natasha watches TV.
I point out to them that, given the current times we live in—and without stating the obvious—they are two strong Black women carrying the weight of the world on their shoulders.
"We're just serving other people in our community. This isn't work, it's what needs to be done," Ms. Frances says.
"You know, when a new mom comes here, there's an adjustment period of 30 days. We break it down in two increments because they usually come from free-living to a very structured environment. There's also the challenge of living with different people with various personalities. The more bodies you have in a home, the more adjustments and tensions there can be, and we must be mindful of those things.
When a mom says, 'This program sucks,' maybe what she wants to express is that suddenly the focus is not only on her anymore because new moms have arrived, and there's an underlying fear of abandonment.
It's a big job. And when COVID hit, we had to close the house and lost the other professionals and volunteers and ended up having to wear all the hats: social worker, therapist, counselor, mother figure, nurse…
The moms who were already here got to stay, and we admitted a couple more throughout the year, but we couldn't welcome any visitors or allow them to work outside the house. The moms are expected to operate independently but now have to be homebound. It's hard. So much harder.
And this is stressful.”
“We allowed them to do whatever they wanted and needed to do because the world was already so strict outside. As we're opening up a bit, we're able to put the older structure back in place, but it's a challenge because accountability without structure is hard.
Old patterns tend to creep back.
At the same time, we knew we had to stick to some of our expectations because two years is not a long time to help a mom undo many habits. To go beyond just surviving takes a lot of effort. You need to be proactive. You need to have a predictable schedule.
But now we have no control on it.
Ms. Frances explains that the house has been open for five years but Carried to Full Term was formed in 2010 as an LLC, then reformed in 2014 as a nonprofit organization.
"It was a painful experience, she says, as with anything that has to do with the IRS. But we did it.
People don't understand how much work there is behind forming a business and running a nonprofit. They think, 'Oh it's a charity! It's God's work!' but they forget that charitable organizations are corporations. And that means a lot of paperwork and time to be legally functional.
But if we want to offer structure to the moms and families who seek help, we must do the same for ourselves.
Our shoulders were already heavy, and when the pandemic hit, it just became heavier.
We're looking forward to reintroducing the volunteers [vaccination had just started when I met with them in April 2021.]
It's tough. We had to keep admitting moms at the beginning of the pandemic because this was such a precarious time. Our protocol became more intense, and we could only welcome three of them, although we had ten more calls of moms needing our help. I'm expecting an increase in calls in June [2021] because when it all started, the people who serve the homeless population received funding from the government to help mitigate the virus' spread.
Same with the housing programs for people living in hotels and motels.
But all this will come to an end in June. So it's not just pregnant moms who will be back in the streets, but entire families."
“COVID led CTFT to modify its programs to host moms with children who are not necessarily pregnant. At the time, they were also expecting to expand the house and add four or five new apartment-type rooms with private bathrooms and a shared kitchen that they'd rent to the moms once they leave to be on their own.
"We were already doing something similar with our graduates," Ms. Frances explains. For example, one mom had transitioned into a townhome that someone had donated to us two years ago. She stayed there and paid the rent, but we didn't apply it as revenue to our organization and put it into a savings account. When she decided to move out on her own, we gave it back to her. She didn't know about it, and it allowed her to start her new life. She found a great job and is now in the process of buying a home."
Schools in the area also give scholarships to moms who want to pursue a career with them. They have engineering and language certifications. None of them is easy.
"This mom, she did the engineering certification in six weeks," Ms. Frances adds. "Now, she's a supervisor at a construction company and got to apply for an engineering position. I just sent recommendation letters on her behalf today.
We take care of our moms, even when they're not with us anymore. As long as they stay in touch, we keep helping them.
They have to go through the entire process and screening again because, many times, they get back into survival mode and end up in worse situations than before. If it becomes too much and they're back in the streets, we'll tell them to reapply for the two-year program.
Part of the reason their lives become worse is that our program offers them a lot of support that they cannot replicate once they get out: it leads them to slide back into old patterns.
It will happen more often than not with people who don't finish the program because they don't know the other steps to break certain cycles. But they still have to get food and find a place to live. For many, it's a guy or a shelter, small jobs here and there. And before they catch themselves, they make mistakes and pride kicks in. And so does the shame.
Shame is a powerful emotion, and it keeps us from succeeding. It's a tool that has been used to control or manipulate them all their lives, and it's hard to break.
Most moms come here believing and wanting to be better. But they often don't realize how much work it'll take to get there. The push and pull between desires and reality are difficult.
Sadly, family members tend to play a role in their relapse. We've seen grandmothers reach out to them while they're here and shame them back into their old way of living.
Parents can't accept that their daughter is outperforming them by doing our program, caring for her kids, or having a career.
They'll do the nastiest thing to their children, using the grandkid, just to sabotage their lives.
We usually see all the red flags, but if our moms cannot admit that her family or boyfriend is toxic and will drag them back down, there's nothing we can do about it.
And this… this is heartbreaking. For us and for our volunteers. Some of them stopped working here because of the grief. They blamed themselves. So we make sure we can provide mental health care to them, too, through the partnerships we already have in place for our moms.
A lot of times, it's two steps forward, ten back. But we don't abandon anyone. Never. We keep showing up if they show up too. Most of them are wonderful moms, or they want to become one, but their lives just aren't structured that way yet."
I ask Ms. Frances how she takes care of herself amid so much caregiving.
"I took a break last week because I had to get some rest. This is only the second time I've taken a break since opening day ten years ago, aside from long weekends here and there.
Some people tell us that we're miracle workers, but it always makes me frown. Not that I'm not happy to be here. I love what I do. But our work doesn't happen in a vacuum, and words of encouragement don't always lead to real support and change.
As we're working towards hosting families in other homes and places in different cities across the county, we realized even more just how hard it is to have supporters invested in families' well-being and not just new babies.
When we do fundraisers, people want to hear about the newborns coming from the hospital. They love the stories of how we give them home and shelter. But when we tell them that we're investing in moms so that they can make decisions for themselves and live a better life, they don't want to hear that.
I want them to realize that cute and healthy babies are a product of our investment in mothers as a society.
My mission is to help change the narrative around how we care for women, talk about these life issues, and advocate for them.
We don't advocate for babies. We advocate for mothers. This is where it starts.
We take care of them from the top-down, internally, mentally, physically, and spiritually.
We never bring up abortion, adoption or even birth control with our mom in the house. Not that they're not having these conversations with their doctor or social workers, but here, what we want them to know is that we believe they're able to do this. That we love them and their children unconditionally.
I've had moms ask me over and over again, 'Who's paying you to love me?' or 'How much money are you getting from the government to help me?' My answer is always the same: no one and nothing.
But women's issues are difficult to sell, and we are constantly fundraising. Constantly. It's so hard to run this organization. Sometimes I ask myself why we can't just be funded because our work is necessary?
And sadly, the biggest resistance I've encountered comes from the faith-based community because the narrative is always around the baby. Always.
I want to move away from this. But it's hard. Because I don't want to use names or show pictures. Anonymity is important since if you know you're sitting next to a mom who stays here, it'll change the way you interact with her. I don't want the moms here to be anyone's personal charity project."
"I have a level of boldness that God has given me," Ms. Frances carries on, and we all laugh. "But it comes with its setbacks; I don't get invited to a lot of events! But we are on a mission to ensure that we speak about the work we do in our interactions with the moms as if they were us.
Because they are. They're you. They're me.
I want people, especially those from the pro-life movement, to hear these words from the mouth of a woman of faith: babies are the product of the investment we make in the moms.
I'll never stop saying it.
The issue is not about abortion, and it's not about adoption because this focuses on the baby. The issue is that we don't trust that these moms can get the tools and resources to take care of their babies, so we discard them. They're not even part of the conversation. I want to challenge people's worldviews and replace them with factual, important, and necessary information about how to support new moms and not just dwell on the feel-good narrative of 'saving babies.'
Carried to Full Term is so much more than a maternity home. We are a Home. A beacon and a safe space. We are a family.
We try to have our moms here understand that life is about healthy relationships, setting boundaries, learning to communicate and experiencing a type of love that doesn't require you to perform.
And this takes time. On average, it will take about six months to gain a mom's trust and make her understand that she might have what it takes to change her life.
This is why our program is two years, at a minimum. Not a 30-day program with all those inspirational statistics, much like the 'before and after' from weight loss. Sponsors and donors love these things because it makes their ego feel good. But here, we just don't have that.
What we have is long-term transformation. It's not as sexy. And it certainly doesn't get as much praise."
I remain quiet as Ms. Frances keeps talking, but I'm filled with a sudden urge to start wailing like a small child.
"There is a part in the Bible that says, 'Do not forsake the assembling of ourselves together, as the manner of some is; but exhorting one another: and so much the more,' Ms. Frances says while looking fiercely straight ahead.
In this house, everyone is welcome to assemble. If a Church is about getting love no matter what, well, this is a Godly home. A home in which we talk about community, feeling good and serving each other. We want our moms to believe that they can do anything.
I'm proud of the work we do.
We call ourselves 'Carried to Full Term,' but we don't abandon moms, ever: we carry them all the way."
I tell Ms. Frances and Ms. Priscilla that this is a beautiful way to end our interview.
I turn off the recorder, pack my gear, and get ready to say my goodbyes. Natasha had gone upstairs, so I walk into her room to wish her well. As she sat on the bed, I snap one more picture to immortalize this environment that has seen her and her son grow so much.
When I leave the yellow house, Ms. Frances and Ms. Priscilla walk me down the little paved sidewalk and into the parking lot.
We part, and as I get into my car, I turn one more time to wave at them goodbye, but they're already walking to the house, laughing and talking with their hands, fingers reaching up towards the sky.
I think to myself that if God truly has created mankind in His image, then there is no doubt that His face has the traits of Ms. Frances and Ms. Priscilla.
UPDATE:
I followed up with Frances on January 28, 2022, via Zoom to get updates about Natasha and CTFT.
She excitedly said they were in the process of buying two homes down the street instead of expanding the current yellow house that Saint-Paul has lent to them but that they do not own.
"What I predicted would happen because of COVID was correct: entire families called because the funding for housing in motels and hotels ended in June 2021. It ultimately was reinstated, but not the eviction moratorium. Families were caught in-between landlords' interests and the rising prices of rentals due to housing shortages. This is a definite national crisis.
COVID also continued to cause problems in the house because, for the longest time, we did not have a vaccination policy for the new moms. We tried to keep it optional, providing educational sessions instead, but it had become unbearable. Our volunteers didn't want to come back if the moms weren't vaccinated, and I can't blame them. All but one resident took it. Although we wanted to respect everyone's wishes, we also couldn't justify not having help because of this.
Two weeks ago, we got our lawyer involved, and we now have a vax policy for all, similar to what is in place for college dorms. We're hoping that'll get our volunteers back in the house and relieve us."
I ask about Natasha and if she's still with them or has finished the program.
"Natasha is not with us anymore," Ms. Frances says, "But we're still in contact. She's in Idaho, where she moved after meeting a guy online. She didn't quite finish the program but completed a PCA [personal assistant care]. She was offered a job here but chose not to take it and, instead, moved with her new boyfriend.
"We were a little scared for her," Frances admits, "but overall, she's doing well. I think she understands that she'll always be able to find a good enough job to take care of herself and her son with this certification.
Natasha says that her new guy treats her well. She always had big abandonment issues, so she didn't want to do the long-distance thing and, ultimately, bought a one-way ticket to go live with him.
It takes some guts to make that move!
I always say that the moms at CTFT are not weak women. They're resilient, and I'm hopeful Natasha will always find her way."
I ask if Ms. Priscilla is still with them and pray she says yes.
"Of course, she's still with us! She even teaches a class on boundaries now and acts as a mentor for one of the moms."
Frances explains that CTFT formed new partnerships with George Mason University and UDA Health during the past nine months. GMU will provide internship opportunities and certification through their department of nursing. They're also about to train the Department of Child Services members about maternal health, nonprofit and women's health. They have plans for a Baby-Cafe where moms can attend classes until their kids are toddlers.
In short, they're not about to run out of work!
I ask Ms. Frances if she's still taking care of herself, and she laughs: "I'm currently making sure everyone knows their role so I can take off for a full month. I'm renting a small Airbnb in Warrenton where I'll just read, hike, and take pictures of nature.
My husband will come for a week, but I already told him that this was my retreat!"
She laughs, then moves on with another story about her four children, her daughter's move to NYC for college, and one of her moms at the house who had a premature baby at 27 weeks. We talk about kindness and taking care of one another, about transmission and families.
Being in the presence of Ms. Frances, even virtually, reignites that little flame that too often goes dim within us.
Something that resembles love. Something like hope.