I work in a place where I see all kinds of awful things, but tonight I saw the most awful of them all. There is a child here. A knee-high guy who should be sleeping peacefully at 3 in the morning. And he is sleeping, thank God, because he is doped up because someone who should love him set him on fire.
I wish I were not here. I wish that little guy were not here even more.
There are days I long for Heaven. In the past two weeks I drove around in my minivan, singing Rich Mullin's song Elijah, too loud and off key. I hoped God wouldn't take my longing for a death wish. Most days, I'm afraid to die.
But tonight, in this God forsaken place, it really wouldn't break my heart to say goodbye.
Here in this place where Heaven and Hell are always crouching near, I pray those angels Jesus said are always here are standing close to the baby. Swaddling him outside the blankets that tightly bundle him, loving him, and whispering to him of Jesus' love. Of home.
Say a prayer for the little one.
God have mercy.
I hate this place today.