Would you do it?

I'm going to try to tell you about the life I lived the last 6 months. You've read the basics. But I have not been able to put absolutely everything into words. I still don't know how to do that but I'll attempt to give you a little bit more of a glimpse.


I watched one little girl learn to crawl and stand up and my heart cried as I watched her. I love her. I never wanted to see her leave. But where was her mom to see her reach these important milestones?

We got a call for two girls who had told their teacher they were scared to go home. In the end, they did not come to our home but my heart cried for these 2 girls I didn't know. Because little girls should not have to be scared to go home. To me the word 'home' means safety. And love.

I walked the dark halls one night- peering into each crib and bed, kissing soft, sleeping cheeks, rocking the crying one-year-old, fixing a bottle for the fussing baby. I leaned over the bassinet and saw the faces of 2 innocent, beautiful babies. And I cried. Because I can only take care of them for a few weeks. I can't teach them the necessities of a good life. And being babies in care already, they don't stand much of a chance.

I watched a 4-year-old make the whole house dislike him. I saw how happy everyone was when he left and my heart cried. Because he didn't know love til he came into our care. He didn't know what to do with the love so he turned it into hurt. And gave it back.

I admitted a boisterous, obnoxious 7-year-old whi apparently had been taking care of his sister for the last while. I watched him be super sweet to her and then turn around and taunt and bully and hurt the other kids without shame or remorse. I took him on my lap one day in the middle of an anger fit and he started crying and did not want to let go. And my heart cried. Because a 7-year-old should not have to take care of a baby. He should not have to have such nonchalance when hurting someone or being punished. He should not have to feel that the only way to get thru life without being hurt is to hurt first.

We had 2 children come for just overnight. None of their family would claim them. They had been to our home 3 times before and seemed resigned to their fate. And my heart cried for them because their lives will never be normal.

I sang the words 'Beautiful things in life won't come easy.' And I stared down at the soft little two-month-old face in my arms and I cried. Because the beautiful child I was holding already hadn't had an easy life. And most likely it will only get worse.

I heard the little 2-year-old call me 'Mom.' I heard her whispered words 'I love you!' and I felt her warm chubby hug wrapping round me. Three months later I watched as her birth mom came to pick her up. I saw this tiny child cry and cling to this life, the one life she knows. And I cried. I cried for the little girl who didn't know her mom. Who called me 'mom.'

 I held the unusually quiet, sleeping 4-month-old in my arms during church. I look around and see the 9-year-old trying to sing along to the songs he doesn't know, the 6-year-old standing proudly by Papa as he leads songs. And I cry. Because we truly sat in heavenly places in that small chapel. And I took it forgranted.



That's the biggest part about the life that I miss. It hurts me that I couldn't be there forever. But it made my life so much the better. It made me more thankful for anything that I have. And I have more friends.
 And what about the price I paid? I left part of my heart there. They say home is where your heart is. But part of my heart is there, part of it is here, part of it is with my little sisters - I've left my heart in so many places I don't have just one home anymore. That's the price I paid.