And I dreamed your dream for you, and now your dream is real

The Vantage Point staff discussed a boy today who I have never met or even seen, but the picture they painted streaked an image of my beloved Leobardo in my mind. Doesn't catch on, concepts flutter around him but don't rest in his mind. Probably low IQ, shuts down when confronted, the other kids find him obnoxious to the point that they punish him constantly for his existence. Whack-a-mole. Oh, sweetheart. Oh, sweetheart. The last day I was at Casa Juconi I played his made-up version of hopscotch for almost an hour. Leobardo played like a much younger child, always off by himself as he wasn't allowed to join in any reindeer games. I thought with a pang, oh! who will play with him now? I know I was only witness to a few flashes of pain in that little life, and I know loneliness on the cancha was the least of his worries, but it still hurts so badly to think of him. Please God protect him, please God let him feel loved. I heard many sad tales today...working for any social service agency is a story of betrayal and broken hearts...well, the business of human beings is about betrayal and broken hearts--but hearing about that boy, the one who reminded me of Leobardo--made of think of what it's for and why I want the things I do.

With the best of my heart, all I want to do is relieve suffering. We are fools to make war on our brothers in arms. I have so far to go, so much to learn and sometimes I am just floundering. But my instincts are to lift. I hope that can get me somewhere.

Once at the beginning, I told Jonathan about Leobardo, and I KNEW he felt it. It was during long, deepsweet talks like those that he "exploded into my heart." I'd felt so many precious things squelched in my soul, and it was different somehow telling him than even those who had understood best before. We didn't muddle around in sorrow and remain there. There is something about Jonathan that is so steady and so comforting. He can grieve without breathing despair. He can reverence something that hurts while filling the air around me with hope. I love the way he talks to me about the Savior. There is a strength about him that I naturally lean into, maybe too much sometimes. It's indefinable, tangible, lasting, something I can believe in. He has a goodness I can feel with my hands, with my heart. It's all I want, for that to grow in me and in us together. He understands about the People, about children and he wants to Lift too. I hope we can spend our lives that way.

Give them to me and I will bear them away.