Wednesday, January 19, 2011

Another bedtime story.

Tonite is probably going to be my last night at the evacuation centre.  They're rehousing people at a truly amazing rate, leaving only those who have absolutely no one to call on.  A large percentage of this last group are Somalian refugees,  who have no relatives to ask for help, no long time friends to lend a hand.   They are doing it come from nothing, to start from scratch and then to be wiped out again, in a strange country, with limited knowledge of the language and no back up system.   And their children are doing it right along with them.  I spent last night with a two year old on each knee and a four year old wedged in between them, reading stories that they didn't understand, but insisted on hearing.  Over.  And over.  And over again.
And singing!!!  I've always sung to my kids, but I'm not performance material by any stretch of the surreal.  But these kids just love to be sung to.  Three choruses of  "Down by the station" and I had a little braided angel in each arm,  out for the count.  It was really hard to leave them there and come home, and I will admit to shedding a couple of late night tears over my own boys later that night, out of sheer thankfulness that we're safe and together.  But I'm truly glad I went....even if the biggest benefits of all were mine.

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