Not Just Someone's Son, But Mine

The refugee situation. All day this has been weighing on me. I saw the photos of that precious boy who washed ashore in Turkey. (Haven't seen the photo? Go here.) And all I can think about is that he is someone's child.

But not just that. Not just someone's.

But mine as well.

He's someone's son, he's my son.

Those tiny little shoes. I can't look at Liam's and Hattie's shoes today without seeing his little shoes in my mind.

This is not just something that's happening "over there." It's happening to all of us. The Syrians, they are God's children. God's beloved children. And they are drowning in the sea, risking their lives to get out of dangerous places. God's children. His children. Our brothers, our sisters.

And that's what keeps going through my mind...

Someone's father, my father.

Someone's mother, my mother.

Someone's sister, someone's brother, my sister, my brother.

Someone's daughter, my daughter.

Someone's son, my son.

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And so I have been asking myself, and asking the Holy Spirit of the Living God, "What do I do about this?" And you know what? What I am hearing is "The answer is not nothing! Nothing is not what I desire of you." To do nothing, to respond with inaction...it's not the answer. Doing nothing is not acceptable, not what God desires of me. I think there's more for all of us to do.

I've read this post by Ann Voskamp over and over again. (Go read it, it's so good!) I've scoured each linked article, cried as I've looked at each little face of a child, sat heartbroken as I saw the desperation that silently screamed through the photos.

Something is stirring in me, longing to help, longing to do something.