The Treasured Ones (Closing Down)

Dear Friends, Family and Supporters

I hope each and every one of you had a warm Christmas and have rung in the New Year with family and friends. I have been praying over this post and the words you are about to read for months upon months. I would be lying if I said I wasn’t terrifyingly nervous to write this. Many of you have followed by journey in Ghana from the very beginning, way back in 2011. From fundraising and building The Education Center with Light for Children, to my permanent move in January 2014, to Ellie Grace coming home, to beginning The Treasured Ones. It has been such an honor to have you come alongside my life through so many different seasons. I love sharing details big and small with all of you and I have received nothing but support and love in return. I have aimed to be as transparent and honest as possible during all of my work in Ghana.

The past year in Ghana has been the hardest year of my life and has held some very dark, lonely, and desperate times. I have made the tough decision to close down The Treasured Ones organization in Ghana. As of January 2016, the organization will no longer be in operation. This is not an overnight decision and is the result of hours of prayer, counsel from mentors and friends, and a lot of evaluating and sorting through my own life. Logistically this entails a few things: Shadrach will be transferred from my home to another orphanage in Ghana, all the children in the medical sponsorship program have already been discharged and are doing really well, Ellie and I will be moving out of the big white house and staff will be let go and severance packages will be issued.

I know that this closure might come as a shock to many of you but I hope and pray that you understand why I am making this heart wrenching decision. I can not continue running The Treasured Ones due to the traumatic events of the last year, most of which I haven’t spoken about to the public due to the confidential nature and the parties involved. These events coupled with the lack of missionary community in Ghana has pushed me into a deep depression as well as being diagnosed with anxiety and PTSD. Between having Ellie’s twin brother pass away, to moving from the village to the city, to major staff problems, to Justice and Ronald dying, the weight is too much to bear. I am in trauma counseling to begin to unpack and work through this, and the road to healing is very long for me. In order for me to be the best mother to Ellie and continue to fully meet all of her needs, I must make decisions that allow me to move towards a healthier physical, emotional, and spiritual life. I am so sad to be moving on from the dream of The Treasured Ones, but trust God that He will take these ashes and broken pieces and make them beauty in His time.

Ellie and I will be returning to Kumasi on January 12th and will walk through the steps of officially closing down The Treasured Ones and tying up all lose ends. Unfortunately, Ellie and I can not move out of Ghana at this time due to her adoption not being finalized, but we are boldly praying for a medical visa in 2016 so we are able to travel to America for much needed medical care (both her and I). The plan right now is to continue living in Kumasi until we hear back from the hospitals in America, which could be a while.

Thank you for your support from the bottom of my heart. You have lifted us high during the darkest of times and shown us that the light will always win. Your continued financial support is so important and appreciated for Ellie and I as we transition to the next chapter of our lives. Now that we will be living independent of The Treasured Ones, you monthly giving means so much to us. If you’d like support us financially, click here.

If you have any questions regarding where your financial donations have been allotted or would like to see financial reports on specific projects, please do not hesitate to email me. I would love to hear from you if you have any questions, concerns, or would just like to chat.

In His Service,
Rebecca Kuntz


Blessing Buckets (The Justice Fund)

Many of you have read the story of Our Warrior Justice who touched the hearts of so many around the world, and tragically passed away two months ago. We wanted to honor his life and death in a way that gave back to the place where he spent his last days on Earth being cared for by the best doctors and nurses around. In just over 2 weeks we raised $2,000 USD to be donated to the PICU. The day we went to deliver it all the doctors and nurses were standing around and I said “Because of the effort, love, and support you showed Justice, we wanted give back to you in a small way by creating The Justice Fund. We wanted make sure that other patients receive that same level of care that our J received. We came today to donate 8,000 Ghana cedis towards patient’s hospital bills and medicine”. All the doctors started crying as their jaws were on the floor. They thanked us a million times and reassured us that 100% of the donation would go directly to the children.

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The first financial donation of The Justice Fund went directly towards the PICU patients. We wanted to help the PICU in a holistic way which includes the patients, parents, doctors and staff. So we created Blessing Buckets.

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Huge thank you to the Joni and Friends International Family Retreat Short Term Missionaries for helping assemble and deliver the first 100 buckets!

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Delivery day: September 22nd, 2015
First 100 buckets!



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I used to be someone who never sat down. Didn’t stopped moving. Always had 5 more items on my to-do list to complete before the end of the day. When you are a missionary running an organization in a foreign country, there doesn’t seem to be any time for rest. There is always a phone call about a sick child, a knock at the gate from someone in need, and hundreds of unread emails in your inbox. Relaxation is a seldom sought, but always needed. Exhaustion is the way of life. If there is anything missionaries are good at, it’s running themselves into the ground.

I never knew how to embrace the slow, until my daughter came.

Ellie came home 8 pounds at 15 months and filled with fear. An orphanage was her former home, but that day she became a daughter. She was tiny, but she was mighty. You see, her body works in a way different than most. Cerebral palsy makes it a challenge to do just about everything you and I would deem “simple”: from eating, to learning to sit, to moving your head. Breakfast was a one hour task, putting on her clothes required stretching her muscles into awkward positions, and getting out the door and to a meeting before 1pm was unheard of.

In the process of adjusting to our new normal as a family of two, I learned how to breathe in the slow.

Simply, caring for Ellie required time. I used to be bound to my to-do lists and hour-by-hour schedules, now the only thing I am bound to is my daughter. I used to think that a successful day required new partnerships, meetings, and program development. Now I know that a successful day could involve all of those things, but it could also involve snuggling on the couch watching ABC videos and doing absolutely no work. Love and patience began to fill the cracks in our home where anxiety and stress used to be.

Through slowing down, my life became more full.


Joy comes in the mourning (#OurWarriorJustice)

4 weeks ago I got a message from a friend named Tammy who has an NGO here in Ghana. I hadn’t talked Tammy in a while, so her message was a bit of a surprise to me. She said she had been following the journey of The Treasured Ones and knew that we cared for abandoned and vulnerable special needs children. Tammy said that a child was placed in her NGO’s care 3 months ago, but they could not care for him long term because their home was full and the baby had special needs and was very sick.

A few months ago God gave me a vision of a Ghanaian child with down syndrome reaching up towards me and calling out “momma, momma” asking to be picked up. I began praying fervently for that child in my vision.

I asked Tammy what the baby was diagnosed with and she said a hospital in eastern Ghana thought he might have a few different special needs, but most likely down syndrome. This was no surprise to me. The minute Tammy messaged me, I knew this was linked to the child in my vision. God planned. God knew. God orchestrated. Tammy said the baby was having trouble breathing, had high fevers, and wasn’t eating. I knew the situation was urgent. We needed to get him to Kumasi right away.

God moved hearts and government officials into action, and 3 month old baby Justice was driven 8 hours from south eastern Ghana to Kumasi with 48 hours of receiving the first message from Tammy. (You can read Tammy’s side of the story here)

Justice arrived and we rushed him immediately to our children’s hospital because he was in critical condition. He spent the next 10 days in the ICU ward of children’s hospital. We began meeting with different pediatricians and going through testing to see exactly what was happening inside J’s little body. The news we received was devastating: Justice had two major heart defects that were common in children with down syndrome, and these type of defects could not be fixed in Ghana, and therefore were fatal. His list of complicated diagnosees continued to grow longer each time we saw another specialist.IMG_9231

But I do not want to linger on J’s diagnosis, I want to focus on his impact. Justice was in our care for 24 days. Those 3.5 were some of the hardest, yet most beautiful, weeks we have had together as a Treasured Ones family thus far. Meghan (Treasured Ones assistant director), Lauren (Treasured Ones summer intern) and myself spent at least 300 total hours in the hospital running morning, afternoon, and night shifts so one of us was always by J’s bedside tending to his every need. We administered medicine, wiped up vomit, patted with cold sponges, adjusted oxygen cannula, changed blown out diapers, rocked, cuddled, soothed, sung, and prayed over him while he fought for life. We checked oxygen saturation levels, counted breath rates, took temperatures, and measured feeds. During that one on one time in the hospital and at home, J’s personality began to shine, despite being so sick and constantly in pain. He had the cutest face and the squishiest of cheeks. He was squirmy as a worm and loved being held on your chest. He cooed and babbled quietly, yet had an ear piercing cry. Justice dug his way deep into my heart in a way that I didn’t know was possible. Loving a child with a condition that will end in death is the harshest of realities. I knew that J would pass away due to his heart defects and other conditions, yet I selfishly begged and pleaded with God to allow him to stay on Earth for one more year, one more month, one more day.
IMG_9055 IMG_9068Justice taught me that you must love with all you’ve got and to cherish the time you’ve been given. God knows exactly how many hairs were on J’s head and He knew exactly how many breaths J would take in his life. He had them all counted. Nothing was hidden from Him or out of His sight. I rested on those facts as I watched Justice struggle to take another breath, always wondering if it would be his last. I clung to Jesus’ promises as more and more medicine was being pumped into his body to try and help his organs work. I didn’t want to have to say goodbye. I didn’t want to let go.

Justice was in the ICU of our children’s hospital for 10 days before he was released into our care. He spent 2 glorious weeks with us at home getting spoiled with snuggles and constant love by anyone who came to visit us. One morning we noticed that his breathing had become a bit labored and he had a bit of sniffle, but thought nothing serious was going on. We called J’s pediatrician who said we should bring him into the hospital just to get checked out. Meghan and Lauren headed out the door as I was handling some issues at the house. We thought they would be gone for a few hours and come home to make pizza for dinner. The situation escalated quickly as Justice began crashing and was quickly admitted to the ICU. The next 48 hours were the longest and shortest. A lot was a blur in the midst of making split second medical decisions and weighing all options. J was transferred to a larger specialist hospital to pediatric emergency unit, and then eventually to the PICU (Pediatric Intensive Care Unit). I replay those 48 hours over and over in my head, going over every test result, every medication administered, every specialist’s words. I tempt myself to think “what went wrong?” “what could we have done differently?”. But nothing went wrong. Absolutely nothing. Jesus was calling Justice home and there was nothing us fleshy humans could do to stop it. This was God’s timing. Even in the hours before J passed away, I was praying and begging and searching for miracles for healing on Earth. When it didn’t look like those miracles were coming, I prayed for peace so powerful that it was seen and tasted and felt. IMG_9176I can recount every minute of the hour leading up to Jesus calling Justice home. And God was present in each of those minutes. The PICU was chaos; doctors and nurses running everywhere, needles and syringes were flying, yet all was calm. I was in tears, yet not worried. For I knew where Justice was going. He was going Home. Eternity was so close I could touch it. And I wanted to go with him. I held his hand, kissed his forehead, and whispered: “We love you Justice. You were never unwanted, not even for a second. It’s been such an honor to love you. You have been so brave. Go run and dance with Jesus my sweet boy”. Justice peacefully passed away a few minutes later. All was still and silent in the PICU. Tears rolled down the staff’s cheeks. And the heavens rejoiced. J received a brand new heart in that instant. One without holes and defects. A perfect heart. Jesus whispered to Justice “I am so proud of you. You have changed so many lives in your short 4 months of life on Earth. Well done my warrior. Welcome home my son. Welcome home Justice”.

IMG_9115“For you created my inmost being; you knit me together in my mother’s womb. I praise you because I am fearfully and wonderfully madeyour works are wonderful, I know that full well. My frame was not hidden from you when I was made in the secret place, when I was woven together in the depths of the earth. Your eyes saw my unformed body; all the days ordained for me were written in your book before one of them came to be.” (Psalm 139)IMG_9178

We wanted to honor Justice’s legacy by giving back to the place that cared for Justice during his last days of life on Earth. The PICU (Pediatric Intensive Care Unit) of Komfo Anyoche Teaching Hospital in Kumasi, Ghana is the only PICU in West Africa. They are equipped with life support ventilators, top of the line medical equipment, internationally trained intensivists, doctors, and nurses. I have never, in all my years in Africa, seen a medical facility like the PICU. They save the lives of many Ghanaian children who otherwise would have tragically died. They care for their patients with love, respect and compassion as if it was their own child lying in the hospital bed. We want to make a donation in honor of Justice to the PICU so they can continue to provide the life saving care that was provided to Justice. It costs only $40 USD per day per child to be in the PICU. We aim to raise $2,000 USD which will allow them to cover the medical bills of families who can not afford it. You may donate through PayPal here. If you want to read/see more about the KATH PICU, you may do so through their NGO partner, Little Steps Foundation.

2014 in Review

2014 brought a lot….


[January 7, 2014]
[Saying goodbye to parents, brothers, family, and friends to pack suitcases and move across the ocean on a one way ticket]


[January 12, 2014]
[Moving into a four bedroom house and having no idea who or what would fill it]


[January 28, 2014]
[Turning 21 in a village and celebrating with hundreds of new little friends]


[American friends visiting all throughout the year]

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[February 24, 2014]
[Meeting my future daughter Ellie & her twin brother for the first time (I had NO idea what was in store for us!)]

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[March 6, 2014]
[Reuniting with my Little Boy in Blue, my first inspiration to found The Treasured Ones]


[March 8, 2014]
[We met through Instagram. She committed to be in Ghana for a year with an eye NGO. Jamen moved to Ghana in October. I in January. We met for the first time in Accra. We became best friends & Ghana sisters. And the rest is history]


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Love Looks Like

I hear a soft whimpering cry coming from her wooden crib in the corner. My feet hit the tile floor and I grab a match and a candle to navigate. The electricity has been off for almost two days straight. I glance at the clock. 2:08am. I check her diaper. Dry. She doesn’t seem hungry. I take her temperature. Normal. She continues to cry. I scoop her up and place her in my bed. Might be night terrors. Institutionalization has major effects on children long after they’ve come home. Maybe a bad dream. I rub her back and stroke her hair and whisper, “Mama’s here. It’s okay. You are safe. I love you” and she drifts back to sleep. These moonlight stricken moments. They’re so sacred to me.

We are in a public bus on our way to bi-weekly physical therapy sessions. She’s strapped to my chest and looking out the window at the people passing. I overhear a group of older women in the backseat talking about her. “Why is she white and that child black? Why does that child have those things on her feet? She must have problems. Who would want a child that isn’t healthy?” I turn around and respond in the local language. Giving grace and educating them on special needs and adoption. They just laugh back at me and continue their ridiculing. She continues to look out the window and smile with her hair blowing in the breeze. “You’re perfect” I tell her.

After a long day we shut the front door and walk outside. Yellows and pinks and oranges greet us in the form of blossoming flowers. I stick one behind her ear. She smiles. I toss her up in the air and catch her again. She releases a loud and excited laugh that only could come from the deepest parts of her body. She look me right in the eyes. That’s it. That’s the sparkle and light that captures me. The look that she gives that reassures me that God aligned the moon and the stars just for her to be in my arms today. I throw her up into the blue sky again. She doesn’t look scared or worried, because she knows I will be there to catch her, time and time again, for forever.

Love looks like the 2am wake ups & putting on armor time and time again & being careless and free. Love is messy. Love is joyful. Love is hard. Love is the in-between moments. Love is smiles & glances & belly laughs. Love is standing up when you are weak & moving forward when you are weary. Love is worth it.

This is what love looks like for us.


Theresa’s Fund

One year ago we lost a beautiful little girl named Theresa. She was 6 months old and had a spunk and sparkle that captured hearts. She passed away from complications of hydrocephalus. She was scheduled for surgery to have a shunt placed that would save her life, but God called her Home the day before surgery. She should not have died, but I rest in the fact that God had much bigger plans with her life. Theresa was one of the first children who came into my life who had special needs. She inspired The Treasured Ones and I thank God everyday for making her life much greater and grander than I will ever comprehend.

You can read her story here.

And part two here.

Kelly (read about who she is in the two links above) texted me today reminding me that it has been one year since our sweet girl has been on Earth. Oh I can just imagine Theresa dancing with Jesus right now, whole & healed. Kelly asked if I would set up a specific Medical Sponsorship fund through The Treasured Ones that would go towards the cost of surgery for children with hydrocephalus. Each surgery is about $1,500 USD and there are currently 4 children that I have identified who are in need of surgery. You may donate through Paypal below.

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A Soft Heart

I’ve been living in Ghana now for almost 15 full months. Over a year ago I had a one way ticket in hand, stepping out in faith and into the complete unknown of moving indefinitely to Ghana. I had no idea what I was getting myself into at the time. If you told me all that I would walk through from moving day until now, I would not believe you for a second. The last 15 months have held more tears, heartbreak and brokenness than I ever thought I could handle. At moments it has felt like life was literally crashing down around me and I could do nothing about it.  There is a lot that has not been shared on this blog, or on any form of social media whatsoever. Most of those chapters and experiences will not be shared publicly because I am not ready to share, or it is just kept between God and I. But I do want you to know this: it has been a hard last 6 months. It has been a hard 15 months. And through all the trials and tribulations, my heart has become a bit hardened. That is one of the most difficult things to admit, but here I am standing vulnerably and stating it.

In the last 6 months my heart has not broken over what it used to. If I heard stories of special needs mothers being ridiculed and mocked, I would tear up because I have been in similar situations with my Ellie. My soul would ache when I saw special needs children not being treated with love and compassion. Those intense feelings are what drove my passion and motivated daily actions. Those feelings still come around now, but it takes a lot to break through the hard outer exterior of my heart. Being put through gauntlets, physically, emotionally, and spiritually, has caused me to form an armor around my once tender heart. When you walk through pain that forces you into survival mode, it is very hard to get out of that way of living. It is hard to then allow other people’s struggles into your heart because you are focused on your own. It has been hard to live in Ghana and constantly see poverty and despair, when my own life and heart felt like it was crumbling. It felt like I couldn’t take on any one else’s problems because I was knee deep in the trenches dealing with my own. And I am not going to lie to you and say that all these issues are gone and I am back to my old self. I am not there yet. I am not on the other side of the mountain. I have, and will always be, a work in progress, molding and being shaped by the hands of our Maker.

My heart used to break for the hard things in my life, now I want my heart to once again break for the hard things in the lives of others.

My prayers used to be for strength to endure, now my prayers are for empathy to comfort.

I want a soft heart, one that listens to others and responds with grace, patience, and encouragement. I want the armor and walls around my current heart to be shattered, leaving behind no broken pieces. I know this process will take time, but I shall faithfully wait, standing here in Ghana, West Africa with an almost two year old on my hip and a thriving ministry. Break my heart for what breaks Yours.