There are days when I think I could do this job for forever. Days when the smiles, the small victories, the "thank-yous" outweigh all the stress, long hours, and difficulties.
Days when I get asked if I come from the blue-eyed clan, or if my hair is real. Days when my clients wonder what actually happens in a church, and can it be possibly be true that Mark (a boy) does the cooking for me?
Oh those days make me laugh- I have found so much glee, so much delight- in discovering more about them and letting them discover more about me. It is so good for us all- this unravelling of "the other". Laughs abound.
But sometimes there are weeks- never just a day, but a series of days that stack one on top of the other and I wonder how on earth I will face them again.
I watch their tears fall and their hearts break. I listen to them try to muster courage up, whispering just a word or two of their devastation. Just posing one question to me, to the world, of how they will survive?- but behind it so many more- Will things ever be different? Does anyone care? Is this what life is supposed to be? I watch them get defeated again and again- and always they amaze me, move me, motivate me.
I've seen a quote going around on social media, likening motherhood to deciding to have your heart go walking around outside your body. I know it's not in my job description, and certainly no one has asked me or expected it...but so often I feel like my heart is diced up into a hundred different pieces, walking around with each of these 100 kids, whom I hope and long and pray for. These kids that make me laugh and cry- make me crazy and make me scream.
Sometimes I think it is unhealthy that I give them each a little bit of my heart, but I don't know any other way to do this job. And I think I carry their hearts too-what they give to me. I hold them as carefully and wisely as I can, sometimes with the realization that I may be the only person that sees them, loves them, wants for them, looks after them.
Sometimes there are weeks and I wonder how on earth I will face them again.
But then I just do.
Days when I get asked if I come from the blue-eyed clan, or if my hair is real. Days when my clients wonder what actually happens in a church, and can it be possibly be true that Mark (a boy) does the cooking for me?
Oh those days make me laugh- I have found so much glee, so much delight- in discovering more about them and letting them discover more about me. It is so good for us all- this unravelling of "the other". Laughs abound.
But sometimes there are weeks- never just a day, but a series of days that stack one on top of the other and I wonder how on earth I will face them again.
I watch their tears fall and their hearts break. I listen to them try to muster courage up, whispering just a word or two of their devastation. Just posing one question to me, to the world, of how they will survive?- but behind it so many more- Will things ever be different? Does anyone care? Is this what life is supposed to be? I watch them get defeated again and again- and always they amaze me, move me, motivate me.
I've seen a quote going around on social media, likening motherhood to deciding to have your heart go walking around outside your body. I know it's not in my job description, and certainly no one has asked me or expected it...but so often I feel like my heart is diced up into a hundred different pieces, walking around with each of these 100 kids, whom I hope and long and pray for. These kids that make me laugh and cry- make me crazy and make me scream.
Sometimes I think it is unhealthy that I give them each a little bit of my heart, but I don't know any other way to do this job. And I think I carry their hearts too-what they give to me. I hold them as carefully and wisely as I can, sometimes with the realization that I may be the only person that sees them, loves them, wants for them, looks after them.
Sometimes there are weeks and I wonder how on earth I will face them again.
But then I just do.
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