It was January 16th, 1991. That evening, this speech came on the television in the living room of our house on 6th Street in Anderson. I remember that my father broke down in tears. I knew that Dad described himself as a pacifist, but I must admit that initially it stumped me. So, we’re going to war….and the problem is? I guess, as a high school student, I didn’t expend a lot of energy considering the actions and decisions of my government. His tears made me stop and take notice. Why?
I remember the thought that came to me which gave me a new perspective. I thought to myself, what if my country was attacking the country in which I grew up? How would I feel about that, knowing that my “second home” and the people I loved there were dying? It gave my pause. Why were the people of Iraq any different?
Over the last few weeks, I have sensed an increasing despair growing in my heart. I feel so burdened for those who are suffering. It seems like the list keeps getting longer each and every day: the families and friends of MH-17 victims, the people of Gaza and Israel, the Yazidis, and the family and friends of Michael Brown. In our over saturated technological and quite broken world, it can be easier for my heart to just shut it all out. I can choose to close myself from the news, the comments, and the statuses. I can shut the door and shut my ears. That seems less painful.
Although I feel that there is actually too much media noise, I can see why we need it. I need to be aware and I need to care. My heart bleeds as I imagine myself in their shoes—as I imagine myself living what they are living. I have embraced, with a great deal of heartache, (as we all should), the humanity of these victims. These are people—just like me. They have faces, names, hopes and dreams. They live, breathe, love, cry, rage… and I am heartbroken for them and for our world.
sharonbernhardt 