Fostering HopeНамуна

MY FAVORITE COLOR IS GRAY

She met the young couple during a spring break mission project. They lived at a local homeless shelter, and as she ate lunch with them one day, she began to connect with them. She heard about their pain, saw firsthand their poverty. And at the same time watched them hang onto each other for dear life. The official project might have been over, but her calling was just beginning. She served them. She took them to the grocery store. Roped her fianc_ and her friends and her church into helping with all sorts of projects, from job hunting to assisting with housing. When they found out their little family was growing, she rejoiced with them. Threw them a baby shower. This kind of service isn't free. She worried - a lot. Had some sleepless nights. Spent money on them instead of herself. And then one night the phone rang. It was the hospital. Someone had injured the baby, and he was very ill. Might not survive. She should come right away.

As she stood next to the crib holding the lifeless little baby, her mind raced through a thousand scenarios. Should she have helped them as much as she did? Maybe it was enabling. Or maybe she could have helped a little more and prevented such a terrible outcome. Should the baby have been placed in foster care? Social services was involved, and knew that the family was struggling, but they hadn't seen any cause for removing the child. So many questions. So much pain. At such a high price. The baby's mom touched her arm, and then fell into her sobbing, needing desperately to be held. The world wasn't black and white any more. It was gray. A terrible, but also wonderful shade of gray. As a young lady became the closest thing to God that a struggling family has ever seen. I suspect that many more families will see God because of her and her new favorite color -gray.