Gone Again

Stopped by the Boy's and Girl's Club for a few minutes to solidify a plan for the next day.

Harder than I would ever have dreamed.

Betty was there, as were many other of the children we have bonded with. Laughing because we're there earlier than usual. Wondering where the rest of the church people are. Asking if we can stay. If we can come earlier all the time. Wondering why we have to leave. Expecting us to stay.

I don't want to imagine what it's like for them. People come. Invest. Love on them. Grow roots. Ask for love in return.

And then they're gone.

Week after week after week. It makes me angry, impatient, and uncertain. What good does this do? Doesn't it cause more damage than it heals?

Than I remember their laughter. Giggles. Hugs. Smiles. It allows them two hours a day every other week during the summer when they know they will be loved. They will be safe. They can be happy. They're not at a funeral or being watched by someone with ill intent.

It expresses the love of Christ. It shows them His love for them which will not leave. It will not go home. It will always return. It will always be strong. It will always carry them. It will never get tired. It will never have a bad day.

That is the kind of support and strength that they need in the darkness at home. That is the kind of hope that brings joy when everyone you know is dying.