“Might I,” quavered Mary, “might I have a bit of earth?”...“Earth!” he repeated. “What do you mean?”“To plant seeds in–to make things grow–to see them come alive,” Mary faltered. He gazed at her a moment and then passed his hand quickly over his eyes...“A bit of earth,” he said to himself, and Mary thought that somehow she must have reminded him of something. When he stopped and spoke to her his dark eyes looked almost soft and kind. “You can have as much earth as you want,” he said. “You remind me of some one else who loved the earth and things that grow. When you see a bit of earth you want," with something like a smile, “take it, child, and make it come alive.” “May I take it from anywhere–if it’s not wanted?”

Monday, June 4, 2012

Me and the terrible, horrible, no good, very

bad day.

There are days that I am sure I can foster no longer. And it is not the children who are the problem. It's the adults that are so busy "protecting" the children, that they deny the children the experience of normal family and normal parenting.

Today, I just want to hide.

1 comment:

  1. You sound like a pretty awesome Mama, hang in there.