A Prayer in the Night

 

4 oz of Pediasure for 1 banana. That’s the trade Mickenson and I have going right now. He is appalled by the thick milky shake when I put it in front of him, but with the reward of a big yellow banana dangling in front of him I can be assured that twenty minutes later the chocolate, vanilla, or strawberry calorie filled drink will be gone and Mickenson will be sporting one of the cutest “Got Milk” -stashes I have ever seen. Mickenson is the GLA Toddler House’s latest arrival. For the last two weeks we have been entranced in his emotions. In each tiny smile we get. In each crystal clear icones_00638 sentence he speaks. And in each tear he cries for the mother he misses. Some moments his eyes speak of a pain far deeper than that which I have ever felt and no child should ever have to feel. In those moments all we can do is hold him and pray. Pray for his little heart to heal. Pray for his tears to cease. Pray for his weak thin arms to loosen their desperate grip for security around my neck. With joy I love him, with joy I hold him, with joy I bargain with him to eat, to cartoon_hut-_no_foreground laugh, to play, and to open up to us. But with a heavy heart I feel his pain, and the pain of this mother that I do not know. And I wonder how many mothers throughout this nation, throughout this world lay down at night falling asleep to the cries of their hungry child unable to meet their needs. How many mothers coax their little ones to sleep by bargaining that if they only sleep through the night tomorrow they will be fed. Pray with me tonight for these mothers and their children.

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