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Inspired by the picture book Trini’s Big Leap, The Big Leap is a home for stories about children and families who discover new strengths—physical, emotional, intellectual, artistic, social—at home and in your communities. We invite you to share a story about collaboration, courage, or perseverance in one of three ways—through a story told in 200 words or less; through up to three photographs; or through a child’s drawing that captures the big moment.

Leaping into Love: For William


I’ll never forget the first time we met William. He was living with his first foster family, and he was destined for our home next. He had bright eyes and an adorable smile. He was just 12 months old. Our biological son was 6.

William’s arrival was explosive. Diapers. Sippy cups. Bibs. Tiny shoes. Bunny loveys. The biggest explosion was our hearts: Tiny fingers picking up dry cereal. Flat, little, pudgy feet to kiss. Itty-bitty toes to nibble.

They say each time a foster child is moved, a piece of his soul is lost. After William’s arrival, the light in his eyes went dim. His cute chuckle vanished.

We just kept loving him. It took William 9 months before he’d let us kiss his boo-boos when he got hurt. It took him 15 months before he’d let me hold his hand while I sang to him at bed time. Alas, after two years with us, he emitted so much warmth.

It was devastating when we learned William would return to his parents. My heart-broken son said, “I don't want to be an only child again.”

May your soul stay bright, and your heart feel light, now and always, our little William.

Nuhar Jaleel



I didn’t reinvent the wheel, I just spun it in a new direction. The journey began in March of 2018 when I took a big leap of faith and started my own business, JS Media. My business is an agency that specializes in media planning/buying, something I’ve done professionally since I graduated from Syracuse University in 2012 with a degree in advertising. I saw an opportunity to take this business model, which has always been huge for Fortune 500 companies, and make it available to smaller businesses. Though I’ve long understood advertising, this was my first time starting a business so I had no idea where this journey would take me.

Nearly a year and a half has passed and I’m still navigating my way through the entrepreneur world as I continue to network throughout northern New Jersey, refine the way I pitch my services, and learn about new concepts like white labeling and referral bonuses. This has been a rollercoaster, mixed with moments of glory and moments of frustration. The moments of frustration are okay, though, because they fuel my passion even further, and as long I’ve got passion, I’ve got faith.

Jeremy Sulit


Having health issues, I was fragile, rail-thin, with only enough strength for the basics. Six years earlier, during the divorce, my youngest child and I moved three hours north. Two years later, he left Ohio for the University of Montana.

My daughter had come up for a visit. We were in the kitchen when I spoke, one too many times, of longing for the ocean.

“Go, or stop talking about it,” she told me.

“How could you say that?” I lashed out. She knew my fears, and history, of getting lost while driving. We argued hard, with tears, before hugging and making up.

Four months later, I headed for North Carolina to visit a friend, still with no sense of direction—and no GPS. Yes, I got lost, but, as my youngest son promised would happen, I got found—with the kind help of strangers.

My kids were ecstatic. They mailed gifts to my friend’s house. It was a life-changing, joyous sixtieth birthday, with a sand cake and shell candles.

I still thank my daughter for that kick. Anything less wouldn’t have been enough. Help can hurt—at first. But possibility is a healer.

The adventures since then could fill a book! 

Patti Mallett                        

Frankie hangs out: A Trini story


Frankie Marvel was truly a marvel at adding twos and threes. Sometimes he would count past all ten fingers on his two hands. Sometimes he would count Trini’s somersaults and the number of blocks in William’s tower and the number of shoes on Keisha’s feet. But there was no way he was ever going to trust himself to hang from the monkey bars in the gym his father took him to. That seemed like a ridiculous way to spend his time, and besides, he had been born with skinny arms.

“You can’t say you can’t if you don’t try,” Keisha could be heard telling him.

“Numbers are more interesting from up high,” William would say.

“This is silly,” Trini once said. “Don’t you think so?”

“Nope,” Frankie Marvel said. Every. Single. Time.

One word. One syllable. One boy. One wasn’t a very interesting number.

If Frankie didn’t try, he could not fall. If Frankie didn’t try, he could not fail. If Frankie didn’t try, he would never laugh the way the others laughed when they hung from their long arms, short arms, wide arms, thin arms and swung.

Frankie watched. Frankie waited. Frankie did his marvelous math. And then one day Frankie decided: I think I’ll take a turn. His friends gathered around. They counted one two three. They lifted Frankie to the bar, and he reached, and his skinny arms were strong skinny arms, and four five six seven eight, the others counted, then nine ten eleven twelve, they went on, then, “Wow, Wow, Wow,” Frankie said, because suddenly his world was a whole lot more interesting than it had ever been.

Beth Kephart

Trini's Big Leap
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