I drove home from school brokenhearted on Friday. Sometimes the needs of the little ones around me so far outweigh my physical capacity to help that I am overwhelmed. I am left to cry and pray and then pray some more. One of my neediest students made an incredibly poor decision and the consequence was expulsion. There was no question that the punishment was warranted, but it left me with such angst.

An impulsive act that led to injury of another student had landed him in the principal’s office. The rest of my class was at recess when I checked back in on him. He sat in the corner chair. With his knees tucked up to his chest and his arms wrapped around them, he looked as small as he could be. And after I told him that I was so mad at him for making such a bad decision I took him into my arms, told him I loved him and we cried.

Such a reckless decision from him was really no surprise when you took into consideration the chaos in which he lived and the fact that he did not regularly receive the prescribed medication that would help control his behavior. The neglect had been reported to the proper channels on more than one occasion and yet it continued.

It is so frustrating to watch a system that is supposed to protect the least of these crawl along at an ineffective pace. And so I continue to pray. For guidance and healing. Intervention and change. Protection and provision. Remembering that my God is the God of the brokenhearted and He is close at hand.

He heals the brokenhearted and binds up their wounds. Psalms 147:3