Last Sunday, two boys died in the Howrah train station. I just thought that someone, somewhere needed to know. They were probably high on glue, which diminishes hunger pains, and rolled off of the roof onto the tracks, where they were then run over by the train.
I spent my week with 8 of the Howrah boys. They’re a little like the lost boys in Peter Pan. I felt like Wendy, darning their clothes. These 8 moved in with our contacts here about 30 days ago…and you can tell…you can see it in their eyes, in the way they move, treat each other, and touch you. They are being fed, they are being loved. I got to be part of that this week.
Raindrops in the Ocean 
May 04, 2009 @ 09:45:00
Thank you for witnessing their lives, Elle.There is a story that’s told at one of the communities here in the Springs, The Bijou Community. They take in the people who fall through the cracks. The homeless who can’t make it into shelters cause they’re drunk, the registered sex offenders. The ones who have no one to claim their bodies at the morgue. The community created a memorial, started claim the ashes of the men and women who died on the street. They had a memorial service on Memorial Day, and placed white stones by the markers, declaring that though some of these people were unknown to us, they are known to God, they have white stones with their names on them. They are known.As the prayers finished, it began to hail. Hail.And the ground was covered with thousands of little white stones.God knows their names.Thank you for making us aware.Love,Tara
May 04, 2009 @ 22:03:00
Mmm….Tara… that story…He knows their names… Not one sparrow falls that He doesn’t know about it, and they were far more valuable…Love your heart, Bethy.
May 05, 2009 @ 22:49:00
Wow…Tara…*tears*…