My kids were fine; they are well-loved and cared for. But my heart sank.
It continued when I opened up my google reader and I read Flutter's touching post, picking out the least skanky Bratz doll for the giving tree (it's a Christmas miracle!) or Beck's wistful post about her family being complete and finished.
I pictured the little boy in foster care in our neighborhood, that hangs out with us a lot. I pictured Bubby's toothless grin; our baby days are behind us.
I continued the cryfest from the night before.
I just feel so helpless. It's the coat drives, and food drives, and toy drives - we give to them all. But what about the other 11 months out of the year?
These thoughts rip me up.
By evening, my make-up had been repaired; a calm came over me.
I have to believe that our efforts matter; small good deeds make a difference.
I choose to try, to love, to give.
With a runny nose, and red eyes, but still.