Billy came with me to the orphanage this week and as he put it, "my heart was ripped out twice today." See, we went to the same two rooms as last time: one filled with innocent handicapped toddlers and another filled with AIDS/infants.
Each time we had to leave the rooms, the children wailed. I'm not talking little sobs here, but outright cries of injustice. It broke my heart just as hard this time as it did the last--even thought I was preparing myself. It's easy to push off the situation as surreal, but I keep forcing myself to picture the reality, and it's plain painful.
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