From 614 Charlotte, via Biscotti Brain :

Three children are about to be removed from their home by Social Services. The 6 and 7 year old girl are sobbing inconsolably; the 4 year old boy stares into space. Heather arrives at this very moment, bearing a family care package. The mother has closeted herself in the bedroom, now completely withdrawn from the children. Heather holds one of the girls in her arms but can't pray, can't even begin to make sense of it all in her heart.

Afterwards, I was talking with the Lord, sharing my heart and the brokenness therein. It is wrong that there was no one to comfort these children. After all, they are caught up in a situation that is out of their control, one that they didn't create. They were all alone in grief and uncertainty and I don't want children to ever be alone.

In response, He said "I didn't leave them alone. I sent you to them."
I said, "their own mother neglected them"
He said, "I sent you to hold them tight like a mother would."
I said "there is no one to share their burden - no one around here has given them a second thought"
He said "You will remember them. You will grieve and mourn and intercede for them. That's why I brought you there - it wasn't just to drop off paper towel and dish soap. "

God's terrible and ferocious beauty, his unending love in the wreckage of the world. You will remember them. You will grieve. You will mourn. You will carry them in your heart in all the ways their mother can't - because that matters - it matters to them, it matters to God, it matters in ways we cannot begin to comprehend. But God didn't 'send' Heather to their house to do a job for him that day. Go back and read the last sentence from the quote again.

"...I brought you there..." 

Three kids waiting for the world to end. A mother simply beyond coping. Tears, lamentation, anguish of the soul, deep as the night; their hearts a bottomless well of tears. And there was Christ, sitting amongst those children, weeping amongst them, weeping for their broken hearts and broken lives, weeping for their mother, weeping for the sin of it all. And when he brought Heather to that living room he was drawing her into their world of pain and fear, drawing her to a sacred trust of remembrance and prayer and mourning, drawing her to Himself. And you find yourself in moments like this, and you don't have the carefully reasoned responses for the atheist, and you don't have the patience for Sunday morning Christianity, and you don't have any explanations or understanding or insight into any of it. All you know is that He was there, terrible and beautiful, and it's almost too much to take.

And you love Him so.