Suffer, The Little Children

Dear Maria,

As things go, I chanced last night to be visiting with my parents as they watched the evening news cycle—local and then the national news. No, I still don’t own a television. Yes, yes, I know.

Of course, this morning I am stuck on the images from what is being reported as a chemical attack in Syria. Why those images? The children. The children wrapped in their white burial sheets.

You know how my mind works—I always want to ask, eye to eye, one person to another. I want to ask, “How did you come to a decision that would kill children?” Does that person then go home to his children? Do his children ask, “What did you do at work today, Daddy”? I say Daddy because I would guess decisions such as that one in that piece of the world are more likely made by males. You know, the word decisions and my use of it is disgusting.

How do such actions square with any kind of respect or, a better word, love for we who are in this world? There is a kind of bullying writ large in this act. Of course, by a magnitude of harm that is many, many fold.

Hurting the defenseless among us. That is bullying. Preying upon weakness. I see it in not only the killing of the defenseless, but also in the striking of someone in anger, or the screaming in a rage at a child.

Surely there is some kind of pathology at work, but where does such an action, such an idea, such a resolve come from. I don’t understand. Maybe understanding is not possible. Hard to settle for “just is the way of the world”.

Heartbreaking. Hug your kids a little tighter today. They need it. You need it. We all need it.

Just, still, srk