I can't get these images out my head tonight:
My sturdy, spacious home.
Rubble everywhere.
My three precious boys curling their little bodies in bed, fast asleep.
Thousands of children out in the open, many without parents there to hold them. Little bodies strewn on the streets or hidden under concrete.
Tonight I want to gather those children in my feeble arms, sit them in front of my fireplace with a buffet of food, and tuck them in, under quilts, to sleep on every empty square inch of my house - let them sleep and forget for at least one night.
I can't be there, but my prayers and heart are in Haiti.
(We are such fortunate people. How can we forget that?)
My sturdy, spacious home.
Rubble everywhere.
My three precious boys curling their little bodies in bed, fast asleep.
Thousands of children out in the open, many without parents there to hold them. Little bodies strewn on the streets or hidden under concrete.
Tonight I want to gather those children in my feeble arms, sit them in front of my fireplace with a buffet of food, and tuck them in, under quilts, to sleep on every empty square inch of my house - let them sleep and forget for at least one night.
I can't be there, but my prayers and heart are in Haiti.
(We are such fortunate people. How can we forget that?)
