I was over at Bush Babe's. In Australia, people are wearing red to commemorate Daniel Morcombe, a young man who disappeared eight years ago, while waiting for a bus to take him Christmas shopping for his family. After eight long years, a man has been arrested in the case. The family is hopeful that finally they will finally be able to have their son's remains brought home for a proper burial.
I cannot imagine not knowing what happened to your child. To be able to guess, but not to know. To not be sure. How do you stand such pain as that?
Half a world away, I clicked on the links BB provided and I was shocked to see one you tube video after another, all of them memorializing a child who had been killed, or had disappeared.
I am not a foolish woman, and I know that these terrible things happen, but somehow, seeing the faces, hearing the stories behind these little faces...my God. Oh my God. How can someone look into the eyes of those children and do them harm?
I heard a story about guerrillas in Africa who went into a village and lopped the right arm off of each child in the town. Because they could. Because they meant to instill fear so deep that there would be no resistance to rise up against them.
Perhaps it is because I've been so busy. Perhaps it is because I've held my little grandbaby William close many times this week. I don't know. It just strikes me that this world is an ugly, ugly world, and it makes me sad.
I sit here, and off in the distance, thunder rumbles. It reminds me that there is a great deal that happens in this world that I have no control over. I sit in my livingroom and I brood about these things, and pray for a way to make a difference.
I just need to make a difference.