As I awake this morning, I am lying in bed and checking the world news. In doing so, I come across a picture of some displaced children sleeping on a blanket with pillows. They are wearing clothes that seem familiar. Two girls and a boy. They remind me of my children when they were younger. In fact, I have to restrain myself from thinking that they are my children. My children are safe at home with me. And yet, there they are, a picture of my children from not so long ago. These are my children. These are our children.
Sometimes I get the feeling that it is all too easy to dismiss what happens to other people in terms of "being thankful for what we have." While it is a good thing to be grateful for goodness in our lives, it is a blessed thing to feel sorrow for those who are suffering. Being a mother amps up the capacity to do this about a million percent. Anytime I see a picture like this, it beckons me to pray in such a way that I imagine God's loving arms embracing these children in fatherly protection. I see our Blessed Mother comforting the mother of James Foley in empathetic sorrow.
God, please heal our world. Grant us peace. Give us justice.
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