I have to be sooooo careful what I say about our foster kids that I usually don’t say much. My heart is on the streets really, but I am wrapped up in these little lives too. And we sent one “home” just before Christmas, one that still has my heart broken. I miss that kid!
I really gotta stop writing that story with that.
But it looks like we have another one coming… maybe tomorrow. I can’t hardly get my head around that, much less my heart. Easy come; easy go… it seems. Now someone tell my heart, please.
I think about Shane Claiborne’s report of his experience with Mother Teresa… helping people die. Poor people. So poor and broken that the grace Teresa gave them in death was the first time some of them ever said THANK YOU. And how they just kept on coming! Everyday another life coming to the Sisters of Charity… coming to Jesus… coming to “the end”.
My wife is a nurse in the PICU. Sometimes she comes home having lost one. She comes home broken, and I tell her how glad I am that the dead kid got nursed by her! Precious little comfort.
So… I am signing up for the pain.
Here we go again.