The Beautiful Tragedy

I swim in the filth of humanity. Violence,  fear and loss. Children who are abused and neglected. Molestation and rape. Bullying. Deprivation. The words themselves sound ugly and painful. 

This is life. A beautiful tragedy. 

An infant with broken limbs, still smiles.

A child with rotting teeth, wants to be hugged.

A teenager in dirty, smelly clothes, worries for their brother. 

A parent addicted to their substance, loves their children. 

And then there is me. 

The homeless, the hoarders, the drug addicts, the rapists. They want to be seen, to be heard, to be valued. They want someone to say "You matter!"  So I sit with them. I listen to their stories. I feel their shame. I create an oasis of safety in a world that condemns them. I swim in the filth of humanity and see the wonder of it. 

I love them. 

I come home and turn off the work phone. Sometimes I need to shower to scrub off the filth of the day. I hug my littles. I practice gratitude. I count my blessings. 

Knowing the car will start when I turn the key.

Shopping without counting how much the things in the cart cost.

Knowing when I swipe my card it will be approved.

Being able to feed my children and the birds too.

Sheets on the bed I sleep in at night.

Having a washer and dryer in my home.

Running water and flush toilets. Lots of families don't even have that luxury.

I am grateful. 

Day after day I swim in the filth of humanity.  Sometimes I am appalled.  Disgusted. Overwhelmed.  Often I cry. But then a small child wraps their arms around me, a teenager smiles and says "Love you babe!", a parent says "Thank you so much for doing this." And it is all worth it. 

I go home at the end of day exhausted, full of heartache. But there is nothing more I can do. So I play. 

I seek out adventures. I turn the music up loud and dance in the kitchen. I play games with my children.  I wiggle my worries away at zumba. I breathe and do yoga. I hike with the dogs. I tell corny jokes and laugh until I cry. I hug my children. I wear flashy leggings and dye my hair purple. I flirt with old men and babies in strollers. I tell people I am grateful for them. I hug strangers. I feel the wonder of being alive. 

Life is tragic. Then it is wondrous. Then it is tragic again. 

The beautiful tragedy fills my days and my heart to bursting.