Absorbing Heartache

I love my job, even though it breaks me wide open and brings me to tears.  I love the children who enter my office and share their heart break with me. I sit with them. I look in their eyes. I wrap them in my arms and hold them close to my heart. I hear their stories.  

I listen while a child details their experience of being raped.  

I listen while a child tells me about the fights and substance use at home.

I listen while a child sobs in my arms because they know their parent will die from cancer. 

Fear. Violence. Loss.  

These young people are brave and strong.  They walk through the worst pain imaginable and they trust me to hold them safe.  

I listen while a child details their suicide plans. 

I listen while a child talks about going hungry so their siblings have enough to eat. 

I listen while a child sobs in my arms because their parent died from an overdose.

Love and loss. 

They trust me to absorb their heartache. 

I show up for them. Day after day. I hold them. I tell them I love them. I tell them I believe in them. I tell them it's not their fault. I tell them it's okay to be sad and scared. I sit on the floor with them. I give them snacks. 

I don't tell them it's going to be okay. I don't tell them I understand. I don't tell them to hurry back to class. 

Then I come home and I cry. I hold my littles close. I practice gratitude. I pray for them. 

Day after day I absorb all the heartache I can stand. In the dark of the night it leaks out of my eyes and stains my pillow. 

I wouldn't have it any other way.