I work with children whose hearts are stony. Part of my job is to warm them, bring them to life, help them to care about the little things...it is an incredibly long progress, but there is progress none-the-less.
These injured children are barely clinging to the ideas of guilt and consequence.
They rarely invite themselves into the everyday; they seem to cling to naked trees on the edge of a misty clearing. Success comes in throwing clumps of dirt from high up in their bare branches, rather than glint-edged axes.
I step toward the boundaries of their clearings and coax at them, encouraging them forward. I bless their "pleases" and "thank-yous" as treasured possessions...gilded in gold as presents to me, no-less.
When they smile, I see light through the branches.
I've taken their hands and headed off on icy trails...trying to be confident enough for the two of us.
It came to me today...this is the slowest work, but the sweetest.
I warm and mend broken spirits for a living.