Crossing borders - Carrying hope

Dear one,

We crossed the border on a hot October evening — my two daughters and I — leaving behind a life that had just shattered. My ribs were still mending from the car accident. My heart, from my husband’s betrayal.

My brother Franky had asked me to come help him build a telecom company in the U.S. I said yes without knowing how I would survive the journey, or who I would be on the other side. There was so much uncertainty — new country, new language, new beginning.

But beneath the fear lived something stronger: hope.
Hope that I could rebuild.
Hope that my daughters would find light again.
Hope that love would carry us across.

There was no roadmap, no clear direction — only courage disguised as necessity. I had no idea that this crossing would become the threshold between who I had been and who I was meant to be.

Sometimes faith looks like a mother crossing borders with nothing but love and a quiet prayer that tomorrow will be kinder.

That day, I didn’t just cross a border.
I crossed into my own strength.
Into the woman I was becoming.

With Love and Gratitude,
Alexandra 🤍

Have you ever had to begin again? Who was your love lifeline?