Jeanette, Then Sammy Dog, and Now, Evangeline

That was Jeanette. My Jeanette; I loved her and couldn't, at the end, take care of her. Protect her.
Jeanette changed my life, my point of view. And now, there's Evangeline, running from the Liberian civil war, stuck living by the side of a building in a hellhole refugee camp.
I called the UNHCR today and finally got someone who knew what the organization does. But every time he went to specifics my connection seemed to break up. If I understood him correctly, if someone will sponsor these kids, which means take them in once they come to the US, the UNHCR will pay their airfare and for their education. If the kids come without sponsorship, they are responsible for everything. Since I couldn't hear the man right--it sounded as though he was shouting from Africa and occasionally an airplane went by and blocked his whispery voice.
Nobody but me wants to do the legwork right now and that's discouraging. No, what is discouraging is I can't just bring them over and have them live in the garage. Or my basement which I don't have. That sounds cruel but I know I need my privacy. I'm too fragile emotionally and I know I can't promise. It broke my heart that I couldn't care for Jeanette when she needed a mother so badly. I couldn't see past her mental illness and couldn't live with it. I just didn't have it. I know most people wouldn't either. She had serious problems. Most people would have felt justified pushing her away, but I didn't. Most people wouldn't have felt they failed. But I did. I really did fail. I couldn't help it, but I'm sorry with every fiber of my being. I still love her, miss her, and I'm still horribly sorry.