Pleading Eyes and Dirty Fingers

   He looked at me with pleading eyes…. “will you be my friend?” The tone and the mannerisms suggested a confidence concerning my answer, but his eyes asked me not to show him to be wrong.
   Ten year old Matty is in one of those homes you worry about. I have watched him grow since he was six. He is a blonde haired wonder who started out needing my constant correction and ended loving me….and I him. He…along with little girls and boys just like him…keep the flame of adoption and social work alive in me. They teach me that you don’t have to give birth to them for them to feel like your own…..for you to want to fight for their best.
   On so many days I don’t want to go meet these kids. I don’t want to make the drive. I don’t want to deal with the program. It is never about the kids. I love the kids. The kids I love the most are the ones who have seen the least of it. And they are the only reason I don’t leave.
   I was not blessed to give birth to all the babies I wanted to. But God called me to love the ones closest to His heart. The ones who need so much more than they are getting now. Every minute I spend with them is a gift to me and to them. More for me. Each time I look into those eyes..whether it is Lils or Matty or Mike…I just know…with wounded children…this is where I belong.
   God has wounded children in every corner. He loves them. I imagine He looks in their eyes and He sees what I see. He sees that spark of hope. That pleading behind the tough act that says..”love me”. I believe I understand something of His heart as my own heart aches for these kids.
   Father..help me be strong enough to stay until you move me…but never far from your wounded children…oh God I pray.

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