As I sit down to write this letter of gratitude, it is not lost on me that the Scripture chosen is the very same verse I wrote in a letter to Hunter just days before dropping him off at Rock Solid Refuge.

A few days before we left, I kept thinking about Hunter lying in a strange bed, in an unfamiliar place, far from home. I wanted him to have something he could hold on to in those moments when he might feel alone. I wanted him to have my words to remind him that, no matter where he was or what he was facing, he was loved.

I remember sitting on my couch, weeping as I wrote these words: “Hunter cried out to the Lord in his trouble, and He saved Hunter from his distress.”

This was my prayer for my son. This was the cry of a mother’s heart.

Hunter was in utter darkness, and we were watching him spiral out of control. We watched as loneliness and a lack of self-worth began to consume him. We could see our son slipping away, and we were terrified of losing him.

As a family, we tried everything we knew to help him. Friends and family stepped in, surrounding us with love and support. We exhausted every resource we could think of, desperately searching for something that would reach our boy. But nothing seemed to be working.

I had begun looking into Rock Solid Refuge as a possible option, but the thought of sending our son away was frightening. It was not a decision we took lightly. We were desperate for help, yet the thought of letting him go into someone else’s care was overwhelming.

We needed God to lead us. We prayed He would give us a sign, something to help us know what to do next.

Not long after that prayer, Hunter was gone for an extended period of time.

I don’t know if I will ever be able to fully put into words what that night felt like. I lay in my bed wondering if my son was dead or alive, wondering if I would ever see him again. There is a particular kind of fear that comes when you are a parent and you cannot protect your child, when the person you love more than words can express is somewhere out in the world and you have no idea if he is safe.

That night changed something for us.

We knew we could no longer keep doing what we had been doing and hope for a different outcome. We knew we needed to take a step of faith, even though it was one of the hardest decisions we had ever made.

And so, we took our son to Rock Solid Refuge.

After dropping Hunter off, it felt so strange to drive away. There was sadness, fear, guilt, and yet, somehow, hope.

There was something both terrifying and powerful about stepping out in faith and placing your child in the hands of your Heavenly Father. Every instinct as a parent tells you to hold on, to protect, to fix, to keep trying. But sometimes, you reach a place where you have to acknowledge that you cannot do it all yourself. Sometimes, surrender is not giving up on your child. It is trusting God to work in ways you cannot.

For the first time in a very long time, I could lie in my bed at night knowing Hunter was safe and cared for.

I would wake in the middle of the night with my heart racing, that familiar fear rising within me. And then I would remember. He was safe. He was being cared for. I could take a breath, whisper a quiet, “Thank You, Jesus,” and fall back asleep.

What an incredible gift.

After so many nights of worry, fear, and uncertainty, God was giving us rest. Not because every problem had been solved, and not because we knew what the future would hold, but because, for that moment, we could release our son into hands far more capable than our own.
We had spent so long fighting for our son, trying to find the help he needed. And through Rock Solid Refuge, we found a place where we could take a breath, where Hunter could begin his own journey, and where hope could begin to grow again.

And that brings me to today.

Hunter has now been at Rock Solid for six months, and we can see change happening. We see joy returning to those beautiful, sparkling eyes. We hear laughter. We get to see that smile that had been missing for so long. And this week, Hunter told us he is working on being kind to himself.

Those words may seem simple to some, but to a mother who has watched her child struggle with his own sense of worth, they mean everything.
To hear him speak about learning to treat himself with kindness, to see him beginning to recognize his own worth, fills my heart with a gratitude that is difficult to put into words.

We know this journey is not over. There is still healing ahead, and we continue to pray for Hunter’s mind, body, and spirit. But today, we have reasons to give thanks. Today, we can see glimpses of the boy we have prayed so desperately for.
And today, I want you to understand something.

You are part of this story.

To every person who has given of your time, your resources, your offerings, and your heart to Rock Solid Refuge, I wish I could adequately express what your generosity means to families like ours.
When you give, you may never meet the boy whose life is being changed. You may never sit across from his mother and hear the fear in her voice, or know what it feels like for her to finally sleep through the night because she knows her child is safe.

You may never witness the tears of relief, the prayers whispered in the darkness, or the joy that comes when a mother begins to see her son’s smile return.

But your generosity makes it possible for this work to happen.

I often think about the day when each of you will stand in the presence of Jesus and hear those beautiful words: “Well done, good and faithful servant.”

I pray that, in that moment, you will understand the eternal significance of your faithfulness. That you will know your giving mattered. That you will see how your generosity became part of the answer to a mother’s prayers, how your sacrifice helped create an opportunity for a boy to heal, and how your willingness to give brought hope to a family who desperately needed it.

From the bottom of our hearts, thank you for being part of Hunter’s story.

I began this journey with tears on my couch, writing a prayer for my son. I am writing this letter today with tears of gratitude, because I am beginning to see that prayer unfold in ways I once could only hope for.

The verse that began this story is still my prayer. That Hunter cry to the Lord in his trouble and He save my son from his distress. That God would break Hunter’s chains.

To every person who has helped make this chapter possible, please know that when I thank Jesus for the work He is doing in my son’s life, I thank Him for you, too.

With deepest gratitude and love,
Shawna