smiles and broken hearts

Sometimes we don't even reach the door.

All we have to do is pull up to the trailer, and kids are coming down the street to play a game or tell us how school was today. It's a circus in there sometimes... cookies baking, movies on, board games going, crayons drawing, or a football being thrown outside. The little 4 year-old girl that often comes over can't quite adjust to the idea of playing "catch" with the football. Instead, she comes to me as I am about to go run an errand and whispers, "When you get back, can we play fetch?" It's painful on the days when we have to turn them away, when we have to say, "I'm sorry, but we can't play right now." The disappointment is palpable.

The circus is a joy for us. We love having a rag tag group of kids laughing and playing in our home. We love to see them alive and feeling safe. But it is heart-breaking, too. Two of the girls are hungry and under-showered most of the time. Their mom just can't be a mom to them. One little boy came over rather scared (though he tried to hide it under playfulness at first) after the police had arrested one of the men living in his trailer. Rumors were flying of his mom's drug use. His bike was stolen by someone he thought was a friend. What is a 7 year-old to do with that?

The struggle is that I am realizing the hardest thing will be the most effective in the end. It is easy to love the kids, even when they are pushing boundaries or needing more than we feel we can give. They are treasures. It is far more difficult to love the parent whom you know is neglecting those precious kids. Still, those mothers (and the rare father) are the ones who will be with them for the rest of their lives, while we will be here for maybe a year or two. To invest in the parents as well as the children, to hopefully make a small difference in how they guide and provide for their kids, will ultimately have the biggest effects on the lives of the little ones we have grown to love.

Pray for us in that. Pray that we'll have the courage to go beyond playing games of fetch, to inviting broken and hurting parents to join us and their kiddos for dinner.