Comfort zones
One of the girls in my scout troop mentioned last night that she and her little sister have been skipping lunch at school because there's no money for it and the school won't let them charge it. I know that her parents are very proud and am not sure what to do, if anything. She also said that her father may be going back to Iraq soon. Given his increased training lately, I'm guessing that the "might" is either her parents' or her own way of putting off reality. I'm hoping that I'm wrong and praying for their family, either way.
The other girl who came to sell cookies last night is being raised by her grandmother. We don't know her father and her mother's latest notable action was to steal a vehicle with her boyfriend, which turned out to belong to one of the few police officers in town. The girl's neighbors are three children, about the same ages of mine, who are also being raised by grandparents. Their grandpa is in the hospital with lung cancer; the kids saw him bleeding profusely from his nose and mouth and are scared he won't come through this time. This is the 6th time he's been hospitalized with cancers of various types.
I'm so glad to work with these children but feel so inadequate in what I can do for them. And the thing that kills me is not the reality of all of this (my own childhood was full of worldly pains so it isn't new or shocking) but what does get me is that way-too-brave look they have. Children shouldn't have to be tough, in my humble opinion. I think that I may not mind, the next time one of my daughters starts whining about something that seems trivial; I might just be glad that trivial things are the worst things they worry about.
The other girl who came to sell cookies last night is being raised by her grandmother. We don't know her father and her mother's latest notable action was to steal a vehicle with her boyfriend, which turned out to belong to one of the few police officers in town. The girl's neighbors are three children, about the same ages of mine, who are also being raised by grandparents. Their grandpa is in the hospital with lung cancer; the kids saw him bleeding profusely from his nose and mouth and are scared he won't come through this time. This is the 6th time he's been hospitalized with cancers of various types.
I'm so glad to work with these children but feel so inadequate in what I can do for them. And the thing that kills me is not the reality of all of this (my own childhood was full of worldly pains so it isn't new or shocking) but what does get me is that way-too-brave look they have. Children shouldn't have to be tough, in my humble opinion. I think that I may not mind, the next time one of my daughters starts whining about something that seems trivial; I might just be glad that trivial things are the worst things they worry about.