To The Middle Eastern Mother

Last night we celebrated our Independence here in America. A tradition is to light loud fireworks late into the night. My three small children were in bed with me because the loud sounds were scary to them. Every time I closed my eyes I thought of you. I thought of what it must be like as many of you have laid in bed with your own children and heard loud bangs and thunderous cracks. But instead of fireworks you heard bombs exploding and guns firing. My children had fear about the loud sounds outside our house and eventually they became frustrated that the noise wouldn’t stop so they could sleep. That’s not what it is like for your children though. Your children inhale terror and exhale slight relief with each boom. Terror because their neighborhood is being attacked and relief because it wasn’t their home that was hit. This time. In my neighborhood cheering often accompanies the loudest pops and cracks. In your home I can only imagine what must be heard. I can only imagine soldiers shouting orders, the newly fatherless shrieking in terror, the sudden widow crouched over her husband’s body, and the now childless mom and dad weeping as they hold the charred body of their beloved son or daughter. I want you to know I prayed for you last night and will once again pray for you tonight. I prayed for you that while you hold your children close and try to calm their fear that God would ease your own. I have no doubt that you lose sleep each night wondering if you should keep your children home from school, if you should go to the mall or grab a cup of coffee, if you should drive on the road or walk on the streets or sleep in your room; because anywhere is a possible target for the next attack. I pray that God would guide your footsteps and lead you into safety and all wisdom concerning it.

Most of all dear mother I pray that you would know that you are not alone. I pray you know that even though things may seem hopeless there is hope to cling to. I mourn with you and your losses. Losses I cannot comprehend. I cry out to God with you and ask and plead why. I don’t consider you the enemy and have great hopes for you to have a successful future. I desire you to return to a normal life as a school teacher, a nurse, a mother, a wife, a sister and a friend.

Although we have not met face to face we are sisters. I will continue to fight for your dignity. I will continue to pray for your safety. I will continue to speak of your troubles.

Hoping we will meet some day.

Liz.

 

Photo credit to Mackenzie Gilliam Photography
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