Monday, May 30, 2011

‘Did you ever stop to think, and forget to start again?’ - Winnie the Pooh

The bed remains unmade, the face has that shiny unwashed look. Pains in my lower intestine. What’s my gut feeling? Blagh.

Leaning over to hush M in church, he recoils and asks if I had brushed my teeth. Not for three days, I reply. Ew.

I find my phone (which I was convinced had been stolen a week ago) in the folds of my bed sheets. Phew.

I am told - again - not to use my free time within the walls of the rescue house, nor go to the streets when I should be relaxing. But this work (just like my old work) is about relationship above all else. One has to build trust. One must demonstrate care. We simply don’t have sufficient help to effect this without using rest times.

By way of illustration, our two most challenging boys right now are direct referrals from the care system here in São Paulo. They are both street kids, but our first contact with them was through a phone call from the authorities. Being placed and choosing a place to go are two very different things and although all are treated with the same love and respect, I do not believe it is an accident that current disciplinary issues with each of them are coincidental.

Mine is not some twisted work ethic (you can ask my old colleagues about that!), but at times overtime is needed. This is my choice, my decision. As Kierkegaard said, there are no solutions, only decisions.

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