It’s the life one never imagines when they’re in 7th grade. How could a child see so far and know the things a child should never have to know?

Yesterday afternoon I met a child new to Siempre Para Los Ninos.

No idea how many children I’ve had the opportunity to welcome into the safety of our work since the doors first opened in 2004.

No idea how frightened and alone she must have felt last night… longing for her mother or grandmother or someone familiar. Like every child, regardless how loving a place they’ve been rescued into, I’m guessing she cried into the night.

Somehow, she’s going to have to find a way to fit in, to make her new home at Siempre her new family.

What a hard task for a 9 year old to be required to take on. Her grandmother had been her legal guardian, no longer able to care for her, she signed everything over to us – por vida – for life.

Siempre.

This morning I stood with a family as they wept – lump in my throat – at Riverside National Cemetery as service men conducted military honors for my friend, their husband, father, grandfather, brother, uncle, son… now given his final resting place… so near my parents.

When I arrived at National, his mom asked the question every mother has ever asked me – the one there’s no right answer for – “How could this happen. Why did God do this?”

My heart broke just a little more as I gently wrapped my arm around her fragile shoulders and gave what comfort I could.

Thanked God she was surrounded by so much loving family. The moments ahead weren’t easy.

So many tears were shed.

In 7th grade I felt like I’d never be good enough. Buddy Johnson, Bob Thurston, Mike Cordell… they were all so cool… so good at sports… they’d been playing since they were at least 9 years old – in 4th grade.

I often felt like quitting. How could I ever catch up to their talent and ability?

I was 12. I couldn’t imagine surviving the current semester of Algebra 1, much less what my life could be like when I was 25 or 50 or even 64. My vision for the future was clouded by my desire to be accepted in the here and now.

To even make an effort I felt like I needed to be “as good as…” or “better than…” or I might as well just throw in the towel… at just 12.

I’ve long since learned that life is filled with heartbreak beyond what I imagined as a child. There are children, abandoned and in poverty, who need a home. We can give them one. So we do. There are children, forced to let go of their father, their dad, long before they ever imagined needing to. We can be there with them. So we are.

And there are still 12 year old’s, getting ready to start a new school year, wondering if they’ll make a new friend, fit in, or be able to be as cool as Buddy or Bobby or Mike… and some of them are foster kids – stuck in a home they don’t know yet – other’s have recently lost a loved one and aren’t sure who they can trust with their grief and pain.

Scripture teaches us that there’s a time when every tear will be wiped away, that sorrow, pain and the chaos they rain into our lives will be gone forever.

I believe it.

It’s just not today.

That’s hard for those walking a path of pain and confusion. Those who feel lost and like they’ll never fit in.

Be kind to the people around you. Some of them recently lost a loved one and can’t believe that the world just keeps on turning like it’s business as usual.

Be gentle to the kids you see heading off to school. They’re probably afraid of what the year holds and wondering if they’ll be able to make it through the day without embarrassing themselves and ruining their lives… por vida.

And when you hit a rough spot – I know I’ve hit a few recently – look forward.

A time is coming when every tear will be wiped away, when the pain we battle in this world will be gone, a time when they will be “no more.”

“All these things will be gone forever.”

Life, this part of it anyway, is short, give it your best. Try something new. Don’t quit. Celebrate a new beginning. Coach a team – for the first time or the fiftieth time – live a life of “scandalous generosity…”

Love. Love completely.

Trust God.

This part of life – the part that robs our joy, confuses us and makes us want to throw up our hands and walk away – it’s just this part of life… there’s more to come.

And “All these things” pain, crying, sorrow, death, “will be gone forever.”

Don’t look back. Look forward. Trust God.

In 7th grade I could’ve never imagined sitting and writing this and my life at 64 anymore than we can imagine the wonder of what’s yet to come.

Don’t give up. So much of life is waiting to be discovered.

Trust God.