Last night I sobbed and ugly cried because I was upset. No one did anything to me.
No one did anything to my children. No one did anything to my husband. No one did anything to my mama, my daddy, or my grammy.
But something happened that caused my heart to break. To crush.
My husband and I were at a local establishment with two of our children. My daughter and I went to the restroom. As we were washing our hands a mother came in with her children, cussing them out. Sadly, hearing that is not abnormal these days. And I don't judge the mother because we have all been at the end of our rope. We have all lost it. Not everyone cusses out their children, not everyone says what this mother says. But in our own ways we lose it.
But that wasn't what upset me. It saddened me. Because no one should be talked to like that.
What upset me is I looked at the children. I will not go into details about what I saw, but I will say it was startling and upsetting. Please note I am not stating signs of physical abuse. But what I saw was confusion. I dared to look into the children's eyes, while holding my daughters hand. My daughter was skipping, holding my hand, excitedly talking about the pizza she was about to eat and a surprise she would receive later.
The other children. Their eyes were dead. Emotionless. Not a hint of sadness. Not a hint of anger. Just emotionless. In the brief seconds my eyes met theirs I saw a story of confusion, rejection, and a life that was what it should not have been. The children appeared to be right around my children's age. But their eyes told the story of a childhood that never was.
I caught my breath. Tried to focus on my daughter who was now talking about how much she loves her teachers and asking what her surprise was. As we ate our pizza, the usual deliciousness was replaced by nausea and a feeling akin to panic. My husband knew I was upset, he could tell I was on the verge of losing my tears and perhaps my food. As soon as the kids were finished eating, we left.
We walked to our vehicle, our children talking about watching "The Jungle Book" when we got home, and asking where we were going next for their surprise. Then I saw the children and mother again getting into their vehicle. I was holding my son's hand, and trying not to stare at the other children. My insides knotted up and I wanted to run to the children and tell them I am sorry for what has happened in their life. I wanted to protect those children. But we kept walking to our vehicle.
As we got in our vehicle, I lost it. I sobbed quietly. I tried not to vomit. I had not felt my heart break like that for someone else in years. I remember the last time my heart broke like that for a stranger, I wasn't even married. I used to be compassionate, but I turned off all compassion and made my own heart hard to others so I wouldn't feel.
We drove to a store. My children excitedly talking about anything and everything. I silently sobbed in the front seat, trying not to let my voice break as I answered their questions. They did notice and the "what's wrong mom?" questions began. Thankfully my husband was able to tell them I was okay. I used almost all of the napkins in my glove box to dry my tears and cover the sound of my heart wrenching sobs. I kept thinking, praying, silently calling out to God "help those kids."
We got to the store, and I asked my husband if it was obvious I had been crying. He said nah that I was fine. We all know my nose was red and my eyes were swollen. So, I took one more napkin in the store with me, to pretend I had 'allergies' so maybe people wouldn't stare.
I put the napkin in my pocket. We went about the night. The heartbreak I felt started to soothe. It was soothed by the sound of my children's laughter. Their excitement over ice cream. And when we picked up our other child from a friend's home, it was soothed by having my family together.
This morning I changed my clothes and put on the same shorts I wore yesterday (yep that's what I do), and felt something in my pocket. I reached in and pulled out the napkin I used to wipe my tears amidst my heart break over the children from yesterday. As soon as I saw the napkin, I felt my heart start to quiver and crack.
That napkin is a reminder that I can pray for those kids. It doesn't seem like I am doing much. But praying is what I can do. I can pray for them as I pray for my own kids. I can pray for their parents, that they have softer hearts. The napkin was also a reminder that God is doing a work in my own heart. God is bringing back a softness that I long ago buried. He is tenderly allowing me to feel compassion, sympathy and empathy again. And He is helping me realize that praying is sometimes "all" I can do. But prayer is not a small thing. All throughout the Bible we are taught about the power of prayer. Prayer isn't small, but sometimes it is all I can do.
Wherever those children are and whatever is going on in their homes and lives, I pray someone intersects their lives and introduces them to Jesus. That God becomes their hiding place and safety.
When you see something heartbreaking. Pray. God can do mighty things.
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