My heart is breaking lately.
Over and over. Each time I think about the border children crisis we have in our country, my heart crumbles.
I cry at my computer, in the shower and driving the kids to school and doctor appointments.
I cry at my computer, in the shower and driving the kids to school and doctor appointments.
Heres why, guys:
The numbers are now closer to 75,000 children refugees that have entered our country without parents. Our country still hasn't made a clear plan on how to approach this situation, or what to do for or with these little ones.
The problem we, as a nation, are having is not humanizing this crisis. We are hearing the numbers, doing the math, trying to work out how on earth we can provide for these kids and stay afloat ourselves.
Where will these kids go? Who will pay for the financial "burden" they put on our education system? How can our economy, that hasn't quite made a big comeback since 2008, support welfare programs, food assistance programs, education programs, housing assistance, and even possibly more crime prevention?
Where will these kids go? Who will pay for the financial "burden" they put on our education system? How can our economy, that hasn't quite made a big comeback since 2008, support welfare programs, food assistance programs, education programs, housing assistance, and even possibly more crime prevention?
Those are just some of the questions on the table.
By people who aren't seeing the faces of these kids.
By people who live in safe homes in safe neighborhoods, with warm beds and pantries full of food.
By people with beautiful children in their homes who have never had to IMAGINE telling their children that they needed to leave their homes and family behind.
But I can imagine these things.
I picture the look on my oldest two children's faces, if they were told by Dan and me, their father and mother, their protectors, providers, their whole world, that they needed to leave us. Alone or together, they had to go... where I would not be to take care of them. Where they may never see me alive again. Telling your children to go far away, to a foreign place, where they would know no one and couldn't speak the language.
I picture the look on my oldest two children's faces, if they were told by Dan and me, their father and mother, their protectors, providers, their whole world, that they needed to leave us. Alone or together, they had to go... where I would not be to take care of them. Where they may never see me alive again. Telling your children to go far away, to a foreign place, where they would know no one and couldn't speak the language.
If you have kids, try to picture that scenario in your head. The confusion on your children's faces, the despair, the look of a heart crumbling in front of you. The hearts you would do anything to protect. The hearts that you love more than yourself. Watching as your whole world leaves you. Fear, sadness, confusion in their eyes.
Trying to be strong in front of them so they trust your decision.
It's hard to think about, isn't it?
I can't do it without tears.
I can't do it without tears.
We can't fathom life being that bad that we would send our children anywhere without us.
So it's bad.
It's really, really bad, everyone. Honduras is the murder capital of the world. The. World.
These kids see terrible things in their home land. Daily.
And they are told here it will be better. Even if their family is not here with them. What a HUGE sacrifice these small children are making for the hopes of a better life.
(By the way, the same reason why our ancestors came. Please don't forget. )
So when these kids make this dangerous trek to get to the States, and get here, can you imagine what their thoughts are, as they are herded into warehouse or prison like facilities? "We left our family for this?"
These kids need love. Oh man, do they need love.
They need some joy.
They need arms around them daily.
They need someone by their bedside after nightmares of memories.
They need their scratches and scrapes kissed.
They need to be a face that the public sees, and a reminder of how wonderful children are.
They need to laugh.
They need to be taught God's love for them, and they need to see our example of God's love in their lives.
They need someone by their bedside after nightmares of memories.
They need their scratches and scrapes kissed.
They need to be a face that the public sees, and a reminder of how wonderful children are.
They need to laugh.
They need to be taught God's love for them, and they need to see our example of God's love in their lives.
What they don't need is to be a math problem. Or an economic crisis.
They don't need to be amidst thousands of other kids in a facility.
They don't need to be amidst thousands of other kids in a facility.
I would LOVE to love on ALL these kids. But I can only do so much. I am only one woman.
That's why these kids need more people like me, people who give them a face. People who view their lives more important than money and materialism.
That's why these kids need more people like me, people who give them a face. People who view their lives more important than money and materialism.
I'm taking part of an initiative called 1000 KIDS FOR IOWA, looking for homes for at least 1000 refugee kids in our state.
If you can put faces to these beautiful, broken children, If you desire to love them, If you think they deserve more than a warehouse home, then please consider signing on to help at www.1000kidsforiowa.org.
They need people like you and me.
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| Picture credit from 1000 Kids for Iowa website |
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