Purpose
Looking back, I shake my head on how much I didn’t get when we added a six year old boy from Ethiopia to our family five years ago. On the outside, we foolishly convinced ourselves that everything was fine but on the inside, our son was broken. A year or so into his new life in our family, debilitating survivors guilt and anger reared its ugly head and flowed into our everyday world. On some days it paralyzed the entire family. By the book we did everything we possibly could for him. Grief counseling. Family counseling. Love. But this tiny eight-year-old Ethiopian was breaking apart and he was taking us down with him.
It was during this time I sat at my counter, beside myself and drained, after yet another rough morning and my heart ached. Yes, it literally ached for his torment and grief. And then it dawned on…
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