In my mind, I saw a string stretching from Henry’s heart at Quiet Waters to my heart. It was taut and it vibrated with Henry’s worries and fears and I felt them all.
Deeply. I felt them all.
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I’d felt this before, when my granddad was in the hospital before he died. We all camped out in the waiting room, eating our meals together, most of us sleeping in the chairs every night. Family from far-flung places would arrive at odd hours and we’d all stand and stretch, hug, get reacquainted, and pass the babies around.
A faint, pale stream of beauty and joy flowed through the heavy sludge of fear and grief. It was kind of like those puddles of oil you see in parking lots that look ugly until the sun hits them and you see rainbows pulling together in the middle of the mess.
And wasn’t that just how life usually felt—a confusing swirl of ugly and rainbow?
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I reached down and picked up a baseball bat at my feet and I flung it as hard as it could. It circled and arced high in the air until it slammed against the side of the dining hall with a crack and fell.
I sat down in the dirt. Then I lay down in the dirt.
Because not only was there no trail to follow, there was no evidence he’d ever been here.
There was no evidence any of them had been here.
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My dad used to say, ‘This is what your right arm’s for, son,’” John said. “This is the time and these are the people and I’d give my right arm to be a light, a comfort, to them. I know you would, too. In whatever form it takes. Use these materials and make something great. Do it on faith, knowing you probably won’t be around to see how the story ends.
Laura Anderson KurkTag: love romance dating sacrifice dedication volunteerism high-school ya young-adult-fiction orphanage teen-fiction long-distance-relationships wyoming glass-girl laura-anderson-kurk teen-books perfect-glass nicaragua
I thought back to Meg’s advice about Hemingway sentences—simple declarative statements that showed the truth and distilled the meaning. My first attempt at that had been cynical and messed up. I gave it a go again.
Find one lost sheep.
The angels rejoice.
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I really want to believe that when our Quiet Waters kids wake up in the middle of the night, scared, they’ll remember being in their bunks with John and Kate and Whit and me right there protecting them,” he said. “I hope we gave them that sense of belonging because I know there’ll be times in their lives when grasping at those bonds could mean the difference between making it and not.
Laura Anderson KurkTag: fear love children romance religion faith dating anxiety protection adoption ya young-adult-fiction orphan orphanage teen-fiction wyoming glass-girl henry-whitmire meg-kavanagh laura-anderson-kurk perfect-glass nicaragua teen-literature
Orphanages are the only places that ever left me feeling empty and full at the same time.
John M. SimmonsTag: adoption orphans orphanage
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