Karen was really the first one to notice that Sarah had changed.

Karen Williams always had such a heart for young children. Her first job had been working for a daycare, she still volunteered in the First Baptist nursery during the early service, and having Toby had been the absolute pinnacle of her life. Children were such a joy to her, and when she married Robert, she naively hoped the determined step-daughter she gained would be the same.

Sadly, no one told Karen that no girl from age twelve to sixteen warmed to maternal authority, stepmother or otherwise. The first two years had been a challenge concerning Sarah, only worsening after Toby came along.

But then came that dismal night in March when she and Robert left Sarah dripping in her costume dress and Toby fussing in his crib. Yes, that had to be the turning point. Over the next couple weeks, Sarah was unusually quiet, withdrawn, and –dear merciful heavens- polite. She would even clear the table without being asked.

Karen had no idea what sparked this change. Maybe Linda had blown her own daughter off one too many times. Maybe Robert had finally had that overdue conversation with her. Whatever the cause may be, Karen was not one to look a gift horse in the mouth.

That afternoon, Mrs. Williams awkwardly fidgeted waiting for her doctor to conclude her yearly check-up. Sarah was at dance practice, Toby was at that lovely Ms. Maddy's house for the day, and Karen's first day off in weeks was spent shivering in a stark examination room. Someone needed to open a women's health clinic that could be mistaken for a day spa. She took a pamphlet from the desk, hoping to find some tips on when and how to start up this routine with Sarah. Maybe their relationship could improve enough in a year to tackle such a stage of awkwardness.

The silver doorknob turned, and her doctor walked into the room. The damning piece of paper in the doctor's hand only confirmed what her grim face told Karen. Toby was going to be the only baby God would give her. Karen Williams, who had wanted a brood, who had prayed for more tiny souls to cherish and love, no longer had the ability to bring life into this world.

She did not cry in the office. It was rather surprising how calmly she took the news, nodding and thanking the doctor for her sympathy. She did not cry walking to her car. There seemed to be a fog engulfing her, disconnecting Karen from the world. She did not cry driving to the high school. All that existed seemed to be the winding stretch of road before her.

She almost cracked right before picking Sarah up. The shrill youthful laughter pierced Karen's protective fog, painfully stirring at her harsh reality. She swallowed a lump in her throat as she turned to look for Sarah. She was one of the ones laughing, walking arm in arm with some dance team friends toward the parking lot.

Karen prayed none of those girls would be jumping in the car after her stepdaughter. As overjoyed as she was when two or three girls a week started coming home with Sarah, Karen simply didn't posses the strength today.

Mercifully, the three other girls all branched out to their own cars or mothers, and Sarah hopped in the passenger side with a refreshing grin on her face. Under normal circumstances, that attitude alone was cause for a party. Today it was Karen who cast the grey pall over the car. Sarah furrowed her brow at the absence of her stepmother's normally cheery greeting, but she called no attention to it.

Right as Karen began to pull out of the parking lot, a stylish sedan dashed behind her, nearly taking the back bumper along with it. The car swung around to the pick-up lane and stopped. Karen and Sarah happened to catch a glimpse of the woman driving. Her hair was a little too blonde, her face a little too plastic. One of Sarah's friends from dance team got in the car. The mother did not look happy to see her daughter. She looked annoyed.

There was another child in the back seat. He was maybe a year or so older than Toby, and he was obviously fussy. The woman looked back before peeling out, regarding her son like a wet dog on the carpet. It was this point when Karen snapped.

"Why are you looking at him like that?" She shouted at the woman. "You blind woman. You don't even deserve them. It's not fair!" She slammed her fists on the dashboard as a stubborn tear trailed down her cheek. "It's not fair! Why is it not fair?" Karen crumpled over the steering wheel in a heap of sobs.

Karen Williams was hurt, frustrated, and most of all- embarrassed. All her anguish and despair had spiraled out of control, and she'd acted like a petulant child in front of her bewildered stepdaughter. Sarah was probably considering calling the police at the moment. Karen refused to look up and see the shocked expression, the mocking curl of a lip. She just closed her eyes and pretended she was crying alone.

Then the world turned upside-down. Arms encircled Karen, and the gentle weight of a head rested on her shoulder. In the past, Sarah had been about as cuddly as a cornered wolverine, but now she just hugged her stepmother and let her cry.

For a long time they sat in the parking lot like that. When all the cars around them had left and all Karen's tears were spent, Karen pulled back and looked into her stepdaughter's eyes. There was a glint there that was definitely not there two weeks ago. Everything seemed to click, and Karen knew.

She had heard of spirit journeys before, those events not entirely explainable by logic that altered the course of a young person's life. The boy (or girl) would start walking the path only to become a man (or woman) by the time they reach the destination. Many times the supernatural or fantastical was involved, and the physical reality of the spirit journey was secondary to the reality of the child's change of heart.

It floored Karen to think that God had chosen Sarah, her Sarah for the trial by fire. Her heart had been refined enough to be there for Karen when she needed support most. However, Karen was not so vain as to believe that was the only reason Sarah had changed. Spirit journeys were meant for those with great destinies. The ordeal prepared them for greater purposes. Little Travelers were expected to live up to their Travels.

Karen sighed and smiled weakly at her stepdaughter. "Do you know how special God made you?"

A slight blush. She understood. "I'm beginning to figure that out. Either that or I'm just lucky."

"You're not lucky. You're blessed, Hon. There's a place for you in this world, and your job is to go find out just what God has for you and let none get in your way. Just don't forget a blessing like that comes with responsibility, and responsibility needs respect and love."

Sarah nodded her head after a moment of thought. Then confusion clouded her face. "How did you figure all this out. I mean, you know."

Karen laughed a little. "The official report said my brother got lost in the woods for a night when he was twelve." Sarah's eyebrows shot up. "I was later told a very different story. His experience actually inspired me to major in child phsychology."

"I didn't know that about you."

"You never asked." Sarah looked sheepish, but Karen smiled, and continued. "Now I don't expect you to tell the whole story today. It's only been two weeks, hasn't it?" A shocked expression. Aha! "but, if you every need to talk, if you every need help understanding something, or just someone to listen, I'll be happy to help."

"Says the woman with her mascara running," Sarah chided gently. Karen hurriedly dabbed the mess off her eyes with an old fast food napkin muttering about looking 'waterlogged'. After she calmed, Sarah spoke up again. "That would be nice though. I think if I told Dad, he'd have me committed."

"Only after he fainted dead away." The girls laughed as the car pulled out onto the highway.

Sarah bit her lip. "Karen?"

"Yes dear?"

"Can I call you Mom?"

Thank the Lord for long red lights. Otherwise the car might've swerved into a duck pond. "I don't want to replace your mother Sarah; I never did." Karen answered candidly. "We'll have to work on something."

A steady stream of incoherent muttering came from the passenger seat. "I've got it." Sarah finally said. "You're not my biological mother, but you are definitely a momma to me. -Thanks for picking me up twice a week, by the way.- Does Momma-K, or some variant sound like a winner?"

Karen rolled the name around in her head for a minute. It felt quite comfortable. "Sounds very appropriate. Thank you."

"You're welcome Momma-K. And can I ask you something else?"

"What's that Sugar?"

"Do you mind if I join you and the boys at church Sunday?"

"I would be delighted if you came with us."

It was the first of many honest, strengthening conversations between the two women. They both understood how much Sarah needed a confidante and Karen needed to remember she was needed, and they never took it for granted.