Broken

This week I realized how broken everything is. Things, relationships, people are not as they should be. I spent some time with a foster child this week and as soon as I was done with the contact I got in my car and immediately started to put on some soothing jazz music. I had rolled down the windows, put on delightful/light/problem-free music, and began daydreaming of the delicious meal I would make to warm my belly and satisfy my hunger. As I rode home I realized what I was doing...running from the brokenness of that child's life and circumstances. I was trying to air out my car of the misfortune, neglect, and abuse that this child has seen in one short lifetime. Once I realized my sad attempt (to feel as if this world is right) wasn't working I just sat there, and allowed myself to take a mental and emotional bath in the broken reality of this world.

Yeah, this job is going to be hard, no doubt about it. People in the social work "business" speak
of leaving work problems at work. Sure...if there exists a button in your brain that helps you compartmentalize your experiences, then good for you. I personally haven't found that button to be easily accessible. Outside of our back door we have an emergency light that comes on when people approach at night. It has two big lights on it that shine in opposite directions. I have looked at that light and thought it is big enough to hang my problems on before I come in after a broken day's work. But honestly, some days it just doesn't seem big enough to mentally afix my work burdens on. Other day's I glide right past that light and spend the evening preparing dinner or doing whatever evening activities with a light heart not thinking about my day.

Honestly I am really thankful for those days when I don't think about work after hours. On the one hand, I don't want to become hardened to the reality of this brokenness like some crusted old shell of a social worker, unaffected by the nastiness of many children's experiences. On the other hand I have got to learn to compartmentalize. What I am doing is glorious in a small way--giving dignity, kindness, and normalcy to these children's lives in the form of a ride, conversation, activity in the community. But here is the best part....I am not God. Bingo! There it is...that is key to how I can compartmentalize. I can give a small piece of love and kindness and be a part of God's GRAND, HUMONGOUS, CERTAIN plan of redemption. So here I go, sent out like an army soldier with a seemingly small mission that is part of a grand scheme. And when I come home at night, I can hang my day's work on that light knowing that this world is broken and I can both cry about it and then come inside, trust Jesus, and go on with my life.