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“I saw the stats for July . . . 80 rape cases, the youngest – 4 months old. She died. This does not include the abandoned, abused, and missing children we’re called out on. While in the moment of working these cases, especially at the point of rescue, I am somewhat desensitized to the matters at hand. It is how we get the work done . . . there isn’t time to mourn, scream, and pull my hair out. I deal with it by focusing on the situation in front of me and then about once a week, I fall apart. I cry because nothing I own smells fresh anymore, or all the lettuce in the market is brown or because my hair is turning gray. And I let it all bubble to the surface where tears flow freely and I know, deep down, I am not crying about the lettuce or my hair and I try to be gentle with myself and not judge my tears or further, try to stop them. It is OK. I am OK. I am safe and healthy . . . slightly war-torn, perhaps. I have accepted, in the deepest part of my soul, that I can’t possibly understand the bigger picture. I’m not meant to. But I am meant to serve and for now, I don’t ask why . . . I don’t ask for answers . . . I simply ask, what can I do to help?”