Lent and the miraculous hoax of grace

I have been a tad bit stressed out lately.
We have known that we are outgrowing our house for some time now. Since we moved here we have added Sollie, Malachi and the little one to the mix. These kids have brought an astonishing amount of equipment and supplies. Shortly after we moved, the health of Aaron changed completely and dramatically. He now requires equipment and supplies of his own. When we bought our house, it had 3 bedrooms. Now it has 7. We added on before we moved in and the notion of renovating while living here would be a nightmare for my kids (and me).
We currently operate in paths in our home, navigating wheelchairs and standars between nurses, therapists, tutors, oxygen lines, and of course, LOTS of toys. So, we decided to sell our house by the lake, which I love. We just can't make this house bigger. This undertaking requires that we finish projects, organize, declutter, and try to make our house look like a typical family lives here.
Enormous impossible task.... Illness, appointments, schedule changes, surgeries, they all throw a wrench in MY schedule. Time is never available in abundance around here and I start to get agitated. I grind my teeth, clamp my jaw and get headaches as I try to plan and re-plan this disaster of a selling attempt.
Then we are called just a bit... A dear mama, that I admire very much, asks us to keep her beloved son, just a few days. They need to fly around this big world for a whole day, then a day back, with a couple in between. To do what? To claim not one, but two, as their very own. To be a mamma and papa to little ones who have none. That is until she laid eyes on them. So we gladly lend our home and hearts to their boy whom they have fought hard battles for and love fiercely. A truer privilege cannot be found than to be trusted with a son whom you have slugged demons for. He has known love now for 9 years, ever since my mamma-friend flew to claim him as well. Their boy that now sits at my table, with his big toothy grin and sharp wit, he is no trouble at all. He just blends right in. His temporary residence in our home ends up not stretching us at all. We can still toil away getting our house ready. He just needs the kind of tending that we give everyday anyhow. Now we get to participate in adding to his family. Ahhhh, good stuff that doesn't stretch. We have never felt called to adopt internationally, but everyone can do something, and this was our something. No stretching required. Perfect.
Then this.... A phone call
A little boy that we have cared for on the weekends is in the hospital. He is alone. He knows being lonely in the hospital, added all up, he's spent 4 years inside their white walls. So I gather my plans, put them in a pile, and we go. We bring him soft pajamas, his favorite foods, and art supplies. We watch movies, play cards, color, have a dance party and eat (lots of) popsicles.
When I choose to do, or more importantly be, what I am supposed to be, in light of eternity, my jaw softens and my head loosens. We still need to sell our house. But today, and everyday until he busts outta that place with shiny floors, we will come. Selling a house will have its time, but comforting a soul is timeless.
It seems to me that love is understood best by those who don't know what our selfish version, or any version really, looks like. Saying "I love you", or buying fancy gifts is hardly recognized by those desperate souls who can only be revived by love in the purest and most concentrated form, the giving of one's own self. They recognize time and effort. They recognize it, but they do not quite know for sure, so they test it. My mamma-friend has passed time and time again. This healed and healing charmer in my living room is proof of that. This little boy who knows white walls and shiny floors will test it too. I pray continually that we are transparent and he sees our love pass through.
Love is desperately needed everywhere. The void is not hard to find. Everyone can do something, because love looks like something, be it plane tickets or popsicles.