Later that evening, after the last guests had found their sleeping arrangements and the house finally grew quiet, I sat alone in Lily's garden with a cup of tea and thirty-five years of memories.

From victim to survivor to healer to leader to grandmother. What a journey it had been.

I thought about that terrified woman who'd fled Toronto with two babies, not knowing if she'd live to see another day. She could never have imagined this – a global network of love, children who used ...