This Past Year

This past year has been the “Year of Kids” in my life. I spent a lot of hours at the local Boy’s and Girl’s club, settling arguments and trying to keep kids from killing each other with wild antics. I loved the kids. I enjoyed getting to know them and taking care of them.

But, this morning I got to thinking of how much time I spent hugging and rocking kids because their lives were coming apart. Here is a list of the situations I heard from all different kids (not all at the Boy’s and Girl’s club):

Her father lived in Jonesboro – or was it Jackson? – and she hasn’t seen him since she was two.

She didn’t really know her mother and now she was going to live with her for the first time since she was a baby.

His parents are both on drugs so he’s moved several states away to live his aunt – the only one in the family that would take him.

Her mother is on drugs.

She didn’t have a good relationship with her dad. Now she’s a teen and she’s going to spend the summer with him for the first time since she was in third grade.

His mother doesn’t work – but mom says he’s too much trouble to keep at home.

Their stepmom neglects them.

Her mother only feeds her one meal a day – if that.

His mother’s boyfriend just moved in and suddenly he has a new brother his own age whom he never knew before now.

She is the one raising her little sister when they stay with her mom.

She trying to run away because she wanted to get away from her foster home and go to her real mom.

His stepfather was arrested last night for drug dealing.

Her father shot her mother right in front of her.

He lives with his grandmother. His sisters (each with a different last name) are farmed out to other relatives in Texas.

Her father was just diagnosed with Parkinson’s disease.

His father is in prison.

Her father has a restraining order against him to keep him away from her.

She just tried this morning to call her father who she hasn’t seen in months. He told her never to call him again.

His stepfather died a month ago in a car wreck.

She stays with friends because her mother is an alcoholic.

I don’t know how many times I’ve held and rocked a child who can’t understand why her Dad isn’t home. It’s been more times than I’ve kissed a boo-boo this year. Why does our country not put any value on fatherhood? How can they not realize what it’s doing to their children? Just last Wednesday, I took a girl out of the Bible class because she kept crying. “What’s wrong?” I asked her.

“I want my dad. I haven’t seen him in weeks and my mom said I couldn’t call him. I love my dad, why can’t I see him?”

What do I say? I never was in her place. How can I tell her it’s going to be ok? They would be empty words. So I sit down in a rocking chair and rock her, crying with her. What do I say when her world is falling to pieces? I point her to Jesus. He knows. He can hold her together. That’s all I can give her – but it’s the best there is.