The wails of a T

T is screaming in his bed. (And I say that like that's new?) He must have awakened mid-dream. I am imagining he was dreaming that he could talk--really talk, and that his mother was brewing coffee for his father in the other room. I imagine he heard her humming and giggling into a muffled hug from the tender embraces of his sometimes absent but always loving father who always called him, "My Tommy-boy."

But he's not there. He's here in foster care trapped by a tongue which cannot form the words his brain thinks up when he's still. His mother and father are both in jail. Both unemployed, and neither in love with the other. It's a dream he shouldn't even dream for, and so he cries. He wails.

When I went in to get him a few minutes ago, lifting him into my arms, he quieted for a moment but was quickly overtaken by wails again. He pointed backward toward his crib and leaned away from me and toward his blankets and pillow. I sighed heavily, I admit. I tried not to, but it was the third time he had taken to his bed today, desperate for a peace I was not giving. He didn't want to play with his friend. He didn't want to eat. I would say he was depressed today if he were a teenager or a stay-home parent or anyone else other than T. T who is prone to tantrums and wails and un-ease with his own function. Instead I'll keep imagining he's mourning the end of his dream and I am just that reminder of what he can't have, every time he sees me.

I'll keep trying, of course. Sadness is a cancer we at least have a hope to cure if we bring in enough levity. Maybe I'll try that trot, trot song--the one I heard last week. And I'll try not to seem disappointed when the tears start again, knowing even now that when they stop they will be hiding not far behind to come barreling out again.

It's not me that's the disappointment, I know. It's just me that's here to hear his wails. And God blesses us both in our trials and through his tears. In God I have the strength to open that door again.... and am reminded of all the times we just HAVE TO DO WHAT WE HAVE TO DO, nomatter what outcome we know will be joining us at the end of our efforts.

Cover me. I'm going back in...!