The following excerpt is from an edited version of the journal Dara kept while living in El Salvador:
"'Dara, are you at home?'
It was Michelle Bueno. My cell phone had been ringing a few times already, but it was our nap time and I never got phone calls, except from Peter. I knew it wasn’t him, so I’d been ignoring my phone.
'Hi, what’s up?' I finally asked. I was not accustomed to Michelle calling me.
'We’re outside your door. Can we come in?'
I rolled over and rubbed my eyes. The last lingering bits of sleep were still upon me and I was in that blurry middle ground between reality and dreams. Did she just say she was outside my door?
'Yeah, of course,' I mumbled. 'I’ll be right down.'
I tiptoed past the girls who were still sleeping and headed down the stairs. This entire day had been very strange. It started out just like every other day -- cooking, cleaning, playing with the girls, walking around our plazuela, and taking our naps. However, all day long I had felt a heavy urge to pray.
It wasn’t because I was fearful or anxious, but because it just seemed right to be praying. I prayed for Peter, our family, El Salvador, everything and everyone that would come to mind. At about 2:30 in the afternoon, I began seeking the Lord on the idea of Mercy. What did His mercy look like? I kept poring through my Bible to find passages about Mercy, and finally wrote in my journal, 'Show me your mercy Lord. Show me what it looks and feels like.'
I had no clue He actually would that very day -- in the most real and tangible way."