After yesterday's post about my Mother In Law's stroke, I wanted today to write something lighter, more fun... a story about the May Queen and her antics, perhaps. But then I read the paper this morning.
I am one of those people who have a hard time getting a horrifying image out of my head (if you are one of those people, be forwarned...). Yesterday when I read one plus two: we are all children here, I was wary of linking to the photo (but it wasn't nearly as bad as I worried, and in fact provides for me a good image of the pain I feel over this war). When the photos of the abuse at Abu Grahb were published I refused to look at them for several weeks. When I finally broke down and did, I saw them in my head for days afterwards.
This morning I read an article, and thankfully there were no pictures, about the busting of an international child pornography ring. One of the things that this group would do was charge people to watch a LIVE VIDEO LINK of children being raped. And I cannot get that horror out of my head. Over a dozen children were freed, according to this article. Children held hostage to this terror.
I believe that most people in this world are good people. That they love their children, and want to protect them. That they would look out and protect other people's children as well. I want so badly for our world to be one where EVERY life is cherished. Where everyone would know the love of their parents, and the world around them. And not just children. The adults who would engage in such behavior... what have they known of love and grace and acceptance and caring for others?
I don't have an answer for how to stop this. But I think that we must do our best to show love, care and tolerance for everyone, at all times. To create, at least in our families and our corner of the world, an environment where no one needs to exert their power in such a way over such an innocent being. Where we practice and teach empathy. Where we don't hesitate to help someone who is troubled. Because as much disgust as I feel for the adults involved in this, I cannot help but wonder what their lives were like that they could get involved in such things. And can I help to stop future horrors by being a beacon of love to those around me? By befriending the outcast? By encouraging the downtrodden?
As I was reading the article, the May Queen came up from the basement, where she was readying the Barbies for us to play. "I need a hug," I told her. Her warm body against mine was so full of love and vigor. I left the paper behind and went happily to play some childish games.