Some days life is so hard with these boys. Not somedays, but most days. Hearts and feelings get hurt on the daily around here. Not always intentionally, but sometimes. It comes with the territory.
We try our best to love each other well, but for some of us, we don't know how to love well and are just learning to even trust someone else, let alone give someone our heart. To be vulnerable. To care. To need or want someone else.
And some days it is so obvious.
We fight. Run away. Hurt each other. Make each other wonder what we are even doing and why we are here.
The great, or really not so great, thing about these boys is they learned a long time ago how to survive. That meant figuring out everyone's weaknesses and using them against the person so they are always safe. The one that was unhurt in the scuffle.
It is true what they say, old habits die hard. It is hard to trust when everyone has taught you to not. It is hard to love when you have never had a reason to but over a million to not.
So of course feeling and hearts get broken.
But then there are the most beautiful days. The days when life seems perfect. When we are just a huge family struggling together to make it. On the same side. Loving each other well. Loving others well. When the day melts away all of the pain of the previous ones and there is only laughter and love abounding.
Sundays are becoming those days. My favorite days. Boys that I never thought would be friends, coming to church and eating lunch with us. The house full of guests from the city that came to visit and check on us. Boys that have started their new lives with your help, coming and bringing gifts to show their appreciation and affections. Boys giving their lives to Jesus at church and deciding they want to be different. They want a new life. They want what Jesus is offering, not what they had before.
Sundays are supposed to be for restoring our soul. For renewing our minds. For finding hope again.
And so they are. And so they are.