On a nice warm summer day in June of 2008, my mother was out in our driveway sitting in her purple lawn chair sipping an iced coffee as strangers walked around tables looking at old junk to buy.  My mom had always loved a good yard sale.  I, however, had to go down and remove at least one stuffed animal from the pile (even though I was a freshman in High School) to be saved from the clutches of an uncaring stranger.  While I was sifting through the mound of fluffy eyes, each one begging to be saved, I heard a woman ask a man, whom I assumed to be her husband, if any of these items were either made in America, or Fair Trade.  He replied with a sigh and said “Unfortunately no."  "I don’t want something made by an enslaved child," the woman replied.  “I know honey, me neither.”  And with that, the couple walked back to their car and drove off.

“Slavery was abolished by Lincoln, so what are they talking about?” I thought.  Little did I know, just how far from the truth I actually was.

I was fourteen, so my ignorance up to that point could’ve been chalked up to being young and carefree, but the truth is, deep down I knew this to be true.  I knew that somewhere in China, India, Thailand…etc, a poor, underpaid (if paid at all) human being was making all of my first world comforts.  From my shoes, clothes, and the coffee I have been addicted to since I was ten, most, if not all, have been made by the exploited hands of the innocent.

On that day I began a journey.  I Google searched “Child Slavery” and was immediately drowning in a sea of facts, percentages, websites, blogs, and pictures of children whom had the same “save me” look as the stuffed animals being sold on my front lawn.  But I kept silent; I kept all this inside. I didn’t know who to go to and I didn’t even know what to say.  So I prayed from that day on, not just for the freedom of the children and the other men and women, but for the buyers and sellers of these humans to somehow see the terrible error in their gross and inhumane ways.  I prayed and kept up with International Justice Mission (IJM) and Somaly Mam, whom, despite the recent expose, is still a hero in my eyes.  For years I silently watched movements being made and listened as people spoke up and fought back.  But it wasn’t enough; God didn’t create me for the sidelines and I now know that.

Though I was only 5 years old I remember 9/11/01 vividly. I didn't fully understand what happened, it was clear by the very air in the house and the fact that we stopped working and just stared at the TV that it was something huge.

Instead of helping we ought to seek to punish the villains who caused this horrible tragedy.  ‪#‎NeverForget‬ is trending on Twitter but I wonder if we already have.

We have often said we will never forget and that "these colors don't run" let's not be idle talkers. Let's show the world that you can't just come in and kill America citizens and get away with it.  We will defend ourselves and punish the wrongdoers.

In my book ‪#‎thesecolorsDONOTrun‬.  Will you never forget?

Prove it.