I read these two posts from another blogger I follow and they really cut into my heart in that way that makes you stop and reflect. When something hits me hard, I like to step into it and reflect through words. This was my reflection.
I spent today wondering what I would do if it weren’t for family.
They are my backbone. My support. My structure as I’ve been transitioning from who I thought I was into who I really am.
I don’t allow myself to think of the reality that they may not be there one day.
That I could again receive a call to get to the hospital quickly because Dad has been admitted.
To think of losing Mom because the nodules may be cancerous.
Even those thoughts are pleasant when I think of the little children in the posts. They didn’t have a warning. There was no time to reflect on how to act or what to do.
I sit in comfort complaining about lack of privacy while they praise God for a home in a camp, where everything is shared.
How different my life could be if born to different parents in another part of the world.
How different my reality would be if I were raising my family in a war-torn country.
I don’t even know where that is.
In all my prayer and all my asking God to protect His children, never once have I taken out a map or compared stories from the news to the corresponding geography.
To do so would admit that I am far removed from it. That I don’t know what it means not to have the ability to dream because reality is so painful closing your eyes hurts.
I see homelessness here and I’ve always felt like there were too many people to help here yet my heart hurt when I read the stories of mothers and fathers being separated from their babies for seeking refuge.
Seeking refuge from this type of war? From pain where they don’t know if tomorrow they will be hit by a missile?
Does it matter what they seek refuge from when their heart is filled with fear their children may one day be like these young ones?
I read this blog and it’s a discussion based upon a documentary. So it isn’t even really third person so much as a person viewing someone else’s view into a reality that someone is living. Even with that it touched me.
So how can I say you don’t matter by not knowing where you are?
My heart understands how protected I am living in the United States. Living in a country where truly anyone can move and there is assistance to help them do so. Living in a country where we feel so entitled to freedom, because it’s all most of us alive have ever known, that we can deny others the ability to have the same.
I don’t know the answers because I don’t know all of the problems but I know wounded children and screaming babies aren’t the way to be human. I know walls not only keep people out but keep those within them trapped.
I don’t know the answer but I know as a human my heart pushes the same color blood their heart pushes through their body and when our body parts are laid to rest, they will look the same once disintegrated.
I grew up listening to Martin Luther King, Jr.’s speeches and believing by 2018 this wouldn’t be a problem in the world. Skin colors and heritage causing people to keep one another away. How do we overcome when we keep repeating the sins of the father?
I long for a day when kids can grow up again climbing trees and falling off bikes. When war is only a card game that is too long and not exciting enough to keep them entertained long.
My heart hurts tonight and these random thoughts pour into my mind. I am blessed that I will make it through the evening not questioning if a missile will hit my city, not wondering if my parents will be be around or destroyed, and not having to deal with debris where my house used to be.
I need to remember this daily as I breathe that first breath each day. I’m blessed for being here and as much as I feel this country has gone astray and lost its mind, I still live in freedom and have the right to think that. That is more than others have in this same moment.