I Worry about them...you know?

There are lots of interesting, real problems going on at our house: Spudly is trying out defiance and giving us a glimpse of teen tudes. Sparkle does not use verbs in most of her sentences. T-Rex--wow! My heart breaks over the things she has endured, the things she still endures. I'm going to need to get some help myself about that one. Seriously, how does a mum deal with the fact that her baby was hurt by other people? A mum should protect her baby--even if she was half way around the world in an orphanage. Rips...my...heart...out. And then there's Stinkerbell who has more health issues by the day, practically: cleft lip, cleft palate, Stroke before birth (probably although not everyone agrees), neurological damage, partial facial paralysis, a severe communication disorder, hearing impairment, an unrepaired hernia and now asthma. My hair is turning greyer and I have lots to worry about at night.

In light of all that, I choose to worry about other--well--more mundane things. For instance, when you make a softie for a swap, gift or a toy drop, do you worry about if it will be okay? Do you hope it finds a good home where it is loved and cared for? Do you worry that some thoughtless lout will let a pet play with it? I do. Seriously. Well, not as seriously as I worry about all the stuff in the first paragraph but I do worry.

Wouldn't you worry about sending these guys out into the world without protection, without knowing where they will live?

They never write. I never hear from them. I don't know if they are healthy, happy, wiseguys...nothing...and that weighs on a softie maker's heart, you know? So I'm asking you today--something simple. First, treat your softies well. Second, let the person who gave them to you know, 'kay? Okay.