Its evening when seven-year-old Ena shows up at our door. She comes over a lot when there’s nothing else for her to do. She was adopted by relatives in an attempt to give her a better home. But her new family proves to be a challenging situation also full of pain and darkness. Nineteen-year-old sister has become her mom. Really, nineteen-year-old sister is the one holding everything together, pulling her parents out of the depths of despair and running the house. They’ve been through a lot and now her dad helps run Alcohol Anonymous meetings, but recently, he’s had a relapse. Now he shows up here for a few days staying on campus until he can go to rehab. That’s when little Ena shows up.

I’m really tired tonight, but we let her in. Soon, we find out Sister and Mom are staying in a hotel. They should be back to pick her up. But its getting late. We don’t know when they will come, if they will come. Finally, we give her blankets and put her to bed. I go to bed myself. Its 11:30 when I hear a knock at the door, but I’m too sleepy to register what’s going on before whoever it is at the door leaves. Its a hard night for me. Lots on my mind, lots going on. But morning still comes and I force myself to open my eyes. Ena is still sleeping in the living room on the couch. I eat a quick breakfast and take a shower, wash away a night of overwhelming realities circulating my world. Ena wakes up and I get her something to eat, get her ready to go because I have school to teach today. I take her to find her dad but he’s not in the room up the stairs. There’s nothing else to do but take her to school with me.

This morning I teach three first graders instead of two. They have lots of energy and can’t focus today. At last, recess comes. But today proves to be no different than always. The one third grader can’t stop bullying. It’s the only thing that makes him feel powerful, like he’s a somebody. This time, his bullying falls on the other third grader. All the kids have had it hard, they’re all suffering from abandonment, neglect, and abuse. The other third grader bursts into tears. And here we are again, letting loose more little drops of pain. I pull him close and softly ask if he’s feeling hurt. He nods his head yes. I tell him to take a big breath, let him know it’s going to be ok. The other third grader gets sent inside to sit at his desk and think through a few things. He obeys. The one third grader still outside finally calms down. All he really needs is to know he is seen, he is heard, he is loved. All he really needs to know is that somebody is there for him. Again, we do what we can do and in the end, I just need these little people to know—they matter.