(Do You) Have A Heart?

No one has ever accused me of being the most emotionally stable person they know. I doubt that will ever happen to be honest with you. I’ve been labeled the two extremes, but never neutral or anything close.

For a long time I thought of myself like Kelly Preston’s character in Jerry Mcguire, “I don’t cry at movies…”

No, I don’t cry at movies. I once had a pizza and movie night with one of the best people on the planet after I mentioned that I had gotten Steel Magnolias in a care package but hadn’t watched it yet, and didn’t really intend to.

I understand that this happens to be on of the saddest movies on the planet but I really don’t see the big deal. I remember remaking to my friend that that movie wasn’t that sad as the ending credits rolled on. She asked me if I had a soul.

I told her I didn’t cry at The Passion Of The Christ a few days before. She then determined that I in fact had no soul. If you don’t cry watching christ be crucified than you have no soul. She neglected to take into account that it was not Christ but Jim Caviezel and it’s not like the ending was going to come as a shock to anyone. So really the safety of my soul wasn’t really in massive limbo, and it’s not like a priest wasn’t in spitting distance if it was really a concern.

I’ll let you in on another little secret; I’ve never seen myself as a mother (or mother type). I’m all for other people being parents, I’ll even go as far as to advocate for adoption, in fact I’m all for that I just don’t think I am a mother type for various reasons. I once told my college roommates, who dream of becoming moms, and I quote, “I had a maternal instinct once, but I beat it off before it could take root.” They were not amused by such a statement, but sometimes the truth hurts.

I’m totally comfortable being the cool aunt (and herby favorite) though, even if it hasn’t happened yet. That job’s got my name ALL over it.

Somewhere between August 07 & August 08 something changed.

After being around 200+ children day in and day out for a year things begin to happen to a person, if you’re me two big things happened, I could see myself as a kid person (at least more than I was), and I went though one of the biggest reasons for birth control on Earth. It sounds like a contradiction but really it’s not.

I’ve already admitted my 6th sense with children so I won’t say anymore about that, at least not right now.

In my adventures in being an adult in childland I had a few encounters with the foster care system. To be honest I knew it was a possibility but I didn’t think it would actually happen.

The hardest part of my job wasn’t the children but the parents. Even though parents made the job more difficult it’s even harder to not interact with the parents, instead you have foster parents (sometimes more than one home), and court ordered visits, social workers. It’s enough to make you want to slam your hand in a door if the situation isn’t ideal, which it isn’t to begin with since a child should be with their parents.

Here’s the long and short of what I’ve learned about foster kids: they’re in a league of their own (and I don’t mean that in a negative way). They’re like special needs kids, and some of them are, they’ve gone though things most of us could never dream of and as a result they’re just different, more challenging for one, the bonds they form with people are much more special than a “normal” kid.

So I guess it’s no surprise that one won me over, at first it was just him, of course it helps when you asked him “Where’s Miss Sarah?” in a room of 3 people named Sarah and he came over to me. Unless you really have no soul that’s really going to get to you.

Cut to learning he was being placed in a more permanent foster home, which just so happened to be hours and hours away. Yes, he was leaving us. I wasn’t completely heartbroken but I was sad. I’m pretty sure if I knew I had a fair shot at it I would’ve become his foster parent. He won everyone over, especially me.

The day before his last day my roommate stopped by for a visit after mentioning to her that I thought the babies were missing her. Before she went to play with the babies she stopped in on my boys (and to say hi to me). Not wanting to pass up an opportunity I introduced her to my buddy, who I happened to be holding at the time, after talking about him at the house for so long I needed at least one of my roommates to see his face.

Of course he loved her too.

I mentioned to my roommate my desire to take him home. Even offering that he could live quite comfortably in my closet and really isn’t that much trouble. She found my idea amusing with undertones of “Are you insane?”

I ended up not taking him home with me. But that doesn’t mean I’ve let him go. I think about him a lot, and wonder if other people do too.

I guess you can say I have a heart for Others. The ones that get overlooked or lost in the shuffle, the ones no one really thinks about without some kind of confrontation.

I guess that’s why I had so much trouble reading the stories from the Compassion bloggers.

Especially hearing that 70 children at one project were without a sponsor.

For days I’ve thought about those 70. What will happen to them? How long will they go without a sponsor? Will they all have a sponsor thanks to blogging?

Only the Lord knows.

I did consider becoming a sponsor, but I have other commitments to take care of first before such a thing is possible, and even if I could, how do you choose 1 out of 70?

I have a heart, even if it becomes a burden at times.

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