Out of pure frustration, the mother pick up a pencil & began to write. “God, help my child. No one else will. I do not know how to!” She wrote fast, tears running down her face falling on the very paper she was writing on. The words began to burr. She kept writing, “Jesus, help my child because I can’t!” Holes began to form on the wet paper. The mother kept writing even though words ended up on the counter top she was writing upon. “Lord, help my baby!” The mother tried to write more, but the pencil broke. She slipped to the floor holding what was left of the paper and just stared into space. “Can’t we be like everyone else just be kinda happy? God, give my child the strength to make it just two more weeks. You know she has tried. I do not know how much more abuse she can tolerate. Please make her stronger. Make me stronger lord. Help me find a way to help my child.” The mother got up off the floor. Picking up the phone, she dialed. “Liberty school-my child, where is she?She called. Is she…”