It is true...I'm all about real life stories. I long for real. Yet, many times the real is extremely painful to face. I can go on and remain unaffected. Or, I allow myself to live it. I can't turn my head or heart and pretend it is not there.
Their faces and their stories often pass through the file cabinet of my mind. Neonates, born to drug addicted moms, endlessly tremor and writhe in pain as they go through withdrawal. Longing to bond with someone, I hold them tightly...hoping to bring a moment of comfort. Another neonate was born with AIDS and not a chance of survival. The doctor tells this longing, previously infertile couple that their baby will be born with multiple congenital anomalies and they should choose to abort. Much to their horror, at 23 weeks and viable, their baby boy was born perfectly normal...as he gasps for every last breath. I stood there and watched him breathe his last...seeing his tiny heart still beating through his transparent skin. He was put in an incubator and wheeled into a dark room to die all alone. I could hear the screams of anguish from his parents upstairs. The reality of the abortion issue hit me extremely hard that day. Sometimes, life is so unfair.
The stories continue. This little boy's daddy died years ago: chronic tooth pain and a mouth full of deep cavities, clothes two sizes too small and homeless. She's being raised by her grandparents as both parents are incarcerated. He has no dad or mom and is being raised by his brother. She was "shipped" across country because her mom is "too sick" to take care of her anymore. Another girl's mom abandoned her; her mom is an iv drug user and thus transferred Hepatitis C. He is placed in an in-patient psychiatric unit due to self-harm of cutting. She suffers from Post Traumatic Stress syndrome due to personal trauma. Another little girl has an eating disorder. As I listen, the stories are never ending and my heart breaks.
Life is hard to understand. Why do these precious ones have to experience such suffering? How is it that I escaped such horrors? I have certainly experienced heartaches that to this day haunt me. Yet, my stories don't begin to rate in comparison to these stories. Why did God allow these things to happen? Are they blessed? I will never have answers to these questions.
I do have so much to be thankful for. If I ever doubt, all I need to do is think about these stories. I can only pray that I have brought a tiny bit of love, hope and comfort to these precious souls.
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