i’m taking cues from the ships on the ocean floor

Posted: October 25, 2010 in life

there are a few things on my mind and my heart tonight. and since they are all to do with other people, their stories and not mine, i’m only going to give you a snapshot. two of my ‘kids’ in particular are on my mind.

‘miss suzi, can we hang out tonight?’

‘c’mon, take me home last, you know as soon as you get home you’ll be out the door again, this is the last bit of freedom i have’

‘i look at them and they’re so lucky, they don’t even know, no-one in my family f*&@ing loves me’

‘you can tell he’s happy now… we’re the closest thing he has to family’

i’m just trying to process what all the value of this thing that i’m doing has.

jesus put it nicely tonight when i was venting some of my frustration at him, he knows these kids and their stories and he said, ‘y’know, sometimes it feels like when there’s something really going on, when we can really be there for a kid, there’s nothing we can do. we can’t practically help.’

it was just nice to hear it admitted, because i know i am helpless in the face of the justice system- at least where this one particular kid is concerned- and i find it hard to be helpless.

but this helps a little:

  1. reenie says:

    Hi I read your blog entry yesterday and as I was thinking about it, I remembered something I had read which had impressed me and thought you might find helpful
    It’s from:

    Audacity to believe – Sheila Cassidy

    and is set in Chile under Pinochet

    Now, after more than three years, the girls were quite accepted in the poblacion. The coup had been a great proving time, for the nuns had stayed in their home and their house had been searched along with those of their neighbours. They had shared the terror of the pobladores when the poblacion had been surrounded and the tanks had driven between the little houses and over some of them, and they had stood numbly by as armed men searched their clothes for arms and their bookshelf for Marxist literature. Now, in the days of steadily increasing hardship, they shared their bread and more important, for it is easy to give what you have, they shared the desperate impotence of watching children die because they had no more to give. It is this standing by helpless that is so difficult and yet so important, the simple being there to share in the suffering of birth, of living and of death. It is when we have nothing left to give that we are forced to open our hearts to share in the grief of the other. What can you tell a mother whose son has just been shot or whose baby has died of malnutrition, or a woman who has no bread in her house when you have none either? It would be so much easier to go away and do something constructive which would make one feel warm inside, but it is in the silent sharing of pain that love is shown.

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