Waifs and Strays

The past few days have been cold, dark, and rather unpleasant outside. Inside we pile on the light, festive decorations, and fire to warm body and the spirit. All the creatures spend their time hunkered together to stay warm. Sandy, our 7 year old pound rescue dog who never liked to stay in the house, has decided that sleeping next to the fire at night is a good thing. (It's been a challenge, since he is a long haired stinky dog who refuses to take a bath and barely tolerates brushing, keeping things clean with him inside, but we welcome him anyway.) Our other strays snuggle together in the barn, sharing heat and companionship. Everyone seems to be waiting for the light to return.

This morning as I came in from the barn the phone rang. It was C calling from work. One of the preschool children she works with was suddenly in need of a place to stay. The details she could give me were sketchy, but apparently this medically fragile preschooler was now without a home. Not homeless with his family, just homeless, left to the state to deal with in this dark, cold time. C was calling to see if we could rearrange things here to accommodate him if they couldn't find another solution. Of course we could rearrange things. We set to work cleaning and moving things just in case. The kids were excited about having a visitor, and I was a bit overwhelmed by the logistics of how to accommodate a wheelchair bound, medically fragile preschooler in our inaccessible construction zone of a house. By 2:30 we were mostly ready. I called C to let her know. She was in a meeting exploring solutions, so we don't know what might happen.

So, here I sit, watching the snow fall and listening to the crackle of the fire, thinking of the waifs and strays, the throw-away creatures and children of the world with no place to go on this cold dark day, and I wonder what more I can do...