I must confess something. I sit you for a few hours, and hear you talk about your life. How its been hard, how you have been lonely. How your previous job was not what you wanted, how someone was mean to your face.
But all I can think of is Kirill. How he was told - no, you may not have a mommy and daddy because you are less than perfect.
You tell me how you worry about spending money on new perfume, because you and your young husband are broken.
But all I can think of is little Ethiopian infant, with dirt in his mouth, suffocating in the desert - because someone decided he was unclean.
You tell me how you had dreams of being a painter, a famous one perhaps, but had to wait tables in a faraway land.
I can only think of a boy, who's body is so broken, he barely has a spot on it that's not in pain. He has noone to cuddle him, noone to make it better.
You tell me how you struggle with your weight, how every died has failed, and you feel ashamed of your body.
I keep seeing the picture of an 11 lb 3-year old, with her little frail body almost nonexistant - she was starved.
You keep talking about how people wronged you, not giving you the days off work when you asked for them. How angry that made you, how hurt.
I keep thinking about a toddler girl, who's body was slashed over and over by shaman, in order to "heal" her by letting the demons out. And a young boy beaten and buried alive for not working the fields too hard. And the dozens imprizoned in cribs, tied to them, denied the basic nessessities for a human to survive. And barely-teens who are pregnant in the orphanages, give birth to more orphans to replace them. And a 6-year old, wearing a red dress, standing and waiting to be raped again and again by a man 4 times her age, and many more to come. And countless other - some denied even the basic dignity of a name.
You tell me the woes of having to STOOP down to be married by a priest, when you specifically wanted no part of a Christian ceremony, but noone else would marry you on a sunday but a priest. And how degrading it felt, and how rediculous it must have been. YOU HAVE IT ALL. Name. Home. Food. Warmth. Family. Love. And yet you are DISGUSTED by religion., really? How is it that you can enjoy these riches and be disgusted by the idea of a God, the very God who showers you with them, and yet those who have NOTHING rejoice when just get a glimpse of him? How is it that your life is so hard, yet you know nothing of real pain? Do you even know that these atrocities exist right now?
I don't hate you. No, I despair, because I catch myself doing the same. Whining. Wanting more. Doing nothing. Me, me, ME.
Father, have mercy on us.