a small dose of healing

the grasshopper, normally extraordinarily agile, took a good tumble today after getting hit in the head with a ball.

he's ok. but it has made me do a lot of reflection on the times he took swipes, dings, bangs, slams, spills, and outright splats on rocks and cement in haiti. there were so many days i couldn't nurse the wounds. so many tears i couldn't wipe away. so many snuggles that didn't happen. so many boo boo's not kissed. like when he split his face open on the shower wall at the orphanage. that one is an ever-present reminder when i look at the scar on the bridge of his nose.

today as he got off the bus with the ice pack on his face and his glasses tucked into his bag for safekeeping because they were sliding off of his swollen face, he stepped into mine and britt's outreaching arms. his bus driver gave her dose of hope that he would heal and rest comfortably over the weekend. leo was behind him holding his bag and his nurse's note. he was enveloped in the love of the family we are. he has us and we have him. and i'm so thankful that we can provide the love and comfort for him that so many children need.

please let your heart love a child from afar today. tonight. right now. please send a little love to a lonely little heart who has a skinned knee. a busted lip. a scraped eye...they need it. they may not feel your touch. but they will feel your heart somehow. there are so many children who need the rescue of a family. they need love.

please also send your love to the families who wait for their children to come home. they long to have their children in their arms. they want to kiss their boo boo's. they are fighting so hard to bring them home. they need your love too because they fear what they don't know is happening to their children. their hearts ache over the time lost to this process. they hurt knowing that they can't nurse their sick children. they can't pick them up when they've fallen. they can't clean up the scraped knee. they can't soothe their pain. they need your love.

this. today. soothing his pain. being there for him. wrapping our arms around him. letting him know it'll all be ok. these are the moments that make everything we did and do worth all of it. all of it. he's here. he has a belly full of pizza, his glasses have been bent back into shape. his fabulous lips are just a little fuller right now. he's surfing the couch like a champ. and he will be ok. and because he will be ok, so will i.