Whenever I talk about work, people inevitably note how difficult it must be to work in such sad situations. And it is hard. The child who is abandoned by her parents when she’s eight years old and struggling, now growing up in a residential facility. The brothers who wait for two years for family to come forward to claim them, only to be let down so often that the flee to the streets where they’ll be welcomed into the cycle that spit them out in the first place. The parents who love their baby girls so, but can’t quit the meth habit. It is hard.
But this world is harder. The exploitation of feminity, the obsession with materialism, the lack of joy and contentment and gratefulness. And I think it’s this world that has caused my calloused heart. Sure, I have to be guarded in my emotions because of my job. But I think my lack of tenderness has a different root. I think it comes from an exhaustion deep down. Over the years, my heart has grown less tender. The things that once made me stop and mourn are barely a blip on the radar. I avoid articles and programs that delve into those issues that speak to my heart, because it has grown still. Instead of beating for justice, my heart is now quiet, letting the horrors of the world roll by. And I have allowed the world to tell me what is right and wrong.
In this new year, I pray for the strength to let my tender heart come back. I hope to become sensitive again to those things that are so broken in this world, that cause so much pain. Because it is those things that help me remember why I need a Savior. And it is in those things that I see space for us to the His hands and feet. Here’s to a new year and a new heart.