Emotions pushed to the brink.
Tears shed until no more are left.
What do you do when you find yourself at the end of your tears?
Just two days ago we rescued a group of seven children. I tried to know each and every name and each and every heartbreaking story. How much did they weigh, what were their symptoms and prognosis? Did they have any family? Were they going to make it? Did the rescue come in time?
I feverishly took notes, but after helping rescue more than 16 children in less that 48 hours, I must confess, they started to run together. Each new story seemed worse than the one before. Little details of little lives . . .
Yesterday I heard the words, I never wanted to hear . . . “we lost one.” I didn’t want to believe it. “One of the ones we rescued?”, I asked. As if it really mattered whether I was part of the rescue or not. But, it mattered to me. I know that not all the children make it, but I didn’t want one of the ones I helped rescue to lose their battle.
He was one of the seven. He had almost gone unnoticed. There were so many children that day and he did not get to ride in the ambulance. He rode along in another truck, and in the rush of activity and chaos in the rescue center, I barely noticed him or his condition.