There are days when I wear poverty around my neck, dangling like a iron lock and chain.
I have always mourned the wasted lives across our globe, dying needlessly for lack of food and water. But knowing Liam, knowing my son, has heightened my awareness and rendered me incapable of ever pretending, for even one second, that poverty is acceptable… part of the cycle.
Grieving for poverty, recoiling in shock when we come upon the disturbing, sicking pictures of hunger and thirst just isn’t enough anymore. When I think back on my life and how I claimed to love Africa, to grieve for third world countries… I have to ask, “what did I do?” Not much. Materialism is seductive, she invites us in and satisfies us for a brief moment only to require more and more until we are ruined by her continual beckoning. I’ve given myself over too many times.
However, wallowing in regret for deeds undone is never productive. We move forward in the light of what we know, letting that knowledge drive us, not drown us.
Speak up for those who cannot speak for themselves; ensure justice for those being crushed. Yes, speak up for the poor and helpless, and see that they get justice.