For most people, charity ends with the occasional check in the mail. For Susan Tom, charity–in its original sense, as a synonym for love–has become a way of life. A single mother of 13 children (two by birth, 11 by adoption), Tom lives in a house bustling with kids, nearly all of whom have special needs, from Xenia, who has no legs, to Faith, whose face is still covered with the scars of a crib fire. My Flesh And Blood spends a year in the Tom household, and it's hard not to emerge from it exhausted, inspired, and more than a little sad. Director Jonathan Karsh decided to make the film, his first feature, after he met Tom while hosting the Bay Area news program Evening Magazine. Her story needs more space than a TV segment could ever allow, if only for the opportunity to get to know the kids better, but with that space comes complications that Karsh might not have foreseen. Tom's ability to keep her house running is portrayed as a minor miracle, but the miracle takes its toll. With her little free time, Tom halfheartedly looks for companionship on the Internet. In one scene, her oldest daughter, Margaret, seems on the verge of cracking under the pressures of helping her mom, attending college, and holding down a job. That becomes a mere burst of static, however, when compared to the problem of 15-year-old Joe Tom, who suffers from cystic fibrosis, diabetes, attention-deficit disorder, and emotional issues that make him a threat to his family. Joe's unrestrained anger makes him the film's focal point, as well as the ultimate challenge to his adoptive mother's undertaking. It's undoubtedly noble to care for those no one else will help, but how much can one woman hope to accomplish? And is there a point where caring has to stop? Mostly content to observe with wary admiration, the film doesn't offer any answers, and life robs the story of any sort of resolution, leaving only footage of one remarkable example of charity in action.