Do my children know?

 

I have been wanting to say something. About what’s happening right now, in Israel and Palestine. But I am out of words.

I can’t truly process this reality.

Last week, when the news were affecting my mental state, I removed myself from it all. I started being more grateful for my food, roof, safety. I was grateful for not being in a war zone.

Then, yesterday, I woke up to the news in Chicago. A six-year-old boy, who was Palestinian-American, stabbed to death. Twenty-six times.

My heart has been broken. I do feel like crying, a lot, not knowing how to process this. 

I haven’t even talked with my kids about it. What would I say?

A little boy’s life was taken away, brutally, because of his religion and origin. Because his parents were immigrants of Palestine.  

How can I tell my kids this happened in this country, where they are supposed to feel and be safe?

I have no words. And given the circumstances, I shouldn’t have any.

I wish I had some inspiration, to offer, because I know I am not the only one who is heartbroken, speechless, hopeless and helpless.

But I don’t have any. Not right now. 

Empathy, rather than inspiration, is more of what we need. What the suffering need. And space, in our hearts, genuinely.

We need capacity to feel the pain of the world.

I know that I can feel this pain. It is raw and real and just because it didn’t happen to me it doesn’t mean I am not heartbroken.

I am. And please don’t tell me I shouldn’t.

Why shouldn’t my heart break over people’s suffering?

 - In my own pain and helplessness, I have been hugging my kids a little more.

I have been asking myself if I have been teaching them about the things that truly matter.

Do they know not to turn their face away, when they see suffering? Do they know to help others if it is in their hands? To care?

Do they know that ALL humans have value, regardless of their religion, race, origin, color?

Do they know that no one is better than anyone?

That a righteous mind is extremely dangerous?

That children are innocent and should always be protected?

Do they know that love is nothing in the absence of ‘authentic power’? In the absence of genuine and caring actions?

That all things are to be respected?

That as much as I want them to be independent, we also need each other? Over and over until the end of times?

Do they know to show up for the hurting?

Do I?

Do we?

🖤