Have you heard about the recent stories circulating online? Women are coming across random water bottles on their cars or finding strange markings outside their homes, and it’s causing concern.
Viral videos suggest that these may be tactics used by kidnappers and traffickers targeting women. The code “1F” is believed to indicate “one female,” using the water bottle as bait to lure women out of their cars.
One such video shows a woman filming a car with a wire attached to the door handle in a parking lot. The caption reads, “WTF is this a joke? Someone better not get kidnapped.” To everyone’s surprise, a second vehicle with a wire wrapped around its handle is revealed.\
In response to these alarming videos, a man posted a TikTok video explaining that putting a zip-tie, wire, or thread on a car door is a common tactic used by those seeking to abduct women. He refers to it as “one of the oldest tricks in the book.” The wire is twisted around the handle to make it harder to remove quickly, giving thieves and kidnappers an opportunity to strike.
However, it’s essential to keep things in perspective. The “wire trick” was first mentioned in a Facebook post back in 2015. Canadian police, where the post originated, confirmed that no kidnappings had occurred as a result of this tactic. Organizations fighting against human trafficking have also not recognized the “wire trick” as a trend.
Some experts dismiss these social media warnings as nothing more than urban legends or scare tactics. They emphasize that traffickers primarily operate online and target individuals they know, rather than strangers.
While it’s always important to be cautious and aware of our surroundings, it’s equally important not to let fear take over. Stay informed, trust your instincts, and seek help when needed. Together, we can create a safer community for everyone.
Yesterday, I found a sandwich packed for my work lunch along with a note from our 10-year-old foster son
The aroma of freshly brewed coffee filled the kitchen, a comforting scent that usually signaled the start of a hectic workday. But yesterday, it was different. Yesterday, the kitchen held a quiet magic, a warmth that transcended the simple act of brewing coffee.
On the kitchen table, amidst the usual clutter of keys and mail, sat a neatly packed lunch bag. Beside it, a folded piece of paper, its edges slightly crumpled. A note.
My heart skipped a beat as I recognized the familiar, slightly slanted handwriting. It was Colton’s. Our 10-year-old foster son.
We’d opened our home to fostering after years of battling infertility. The empty rooms of our house had echoed with a longing that no amount of well-meaning advice could fill. We wanted to give a child a chance, a safe haven, a loving family.
Colton had arrived a year ago, a whirlwind of boundless energy and insatiable curiosity. He was a dreamer, a boy who found wonder in the simplest things. He loved riding his bike, exploring the neighborhood, and most of all, he loved helping in the kitchen, his eyes sparkling with the ambition of a future chef.
The note was simple, written in his characteristic, slightly misspelled script: “Lunch for you. Have a good day. Love Colton.”
And inside the lunch bag, a perfectly assembled sandwich, wrapped in wax paper, a small bag of chips, and a bruised but perfectly ripe apple.
It wasn’t just a sandwich. It wasn’t just a note. It was a testament to the bond we’d built, a tangible expression of the love that had blossomed between us.
For months, I’d felt a shift within me, a growing certainty that Colton wasn’t just a foster child, he was our son. The way he’d seamlessly woven himself into our lives, the way he’d filled the empty spaces in our hearts, it was undeniable.
That note, that simple gesture of love, solidified it. It was a quiet affirmation of what I already knew.
I shared the note with my wife, Sarah, her eyes welling up with tears as she read it. We looked at each other, a silent understanding passing between us. It was time.
Today, we made the decision official. We’re going to adopt Colton.
The paperwork is already underway, the legal process a mere formality compared to the emotional journey we’ve already undertaken. We’re planning a surprise for him, a small celebration to mark this momentous occasion.
We’ve decorated his room with balloons and streamers, a banner proclaiming “Welcome to your forever home!” We’ve baked his favorite chocolate chip cookies, and Sarah has even prepared a special dinner, a culinary masterpiece that would make any aspiring chef proud.
Tonight, when Colton returns from school, we’ll gather around the kitchen table, the same table where I found his note, and we’ll tell him the news.
I imagine his eyes widening with disbelief, then filling with tears of joy. I imagine him running into our arms, his small frame shaking with emotion.
And I know, with absolute certainty, that this is the best decision we’ve ever made. We’re not just giving Colton a home; he’s giving us a family, a love that’s richer and more profound than we ever imagined.
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