“I watched a little baby die today—absolutely horrific, just a two-year-old been hit, they stripped it and found the shrapnel had gone into the left chest. The doctor just said, ‘I can’t do anything’. His little tummy just kept heaving until he died. That is happening over and over and over.” –Marie Colvin (via)
This was one of the last messages American journalist Marie Colvin sent before she was killed by rocket fire while reporting on the violence in the Syrian city of Homs yesterday.
I am moved beyond words reading this. I just don't know what to think.
Last night the hubs and I were talking about Syria over dinner and he asked me, "What would you do? Would you invade?" All I could do was shake my head and say, "I don't know. I just do not know." Violence only begets more violence. In order to protect and save innocents we would have to send innocent men and women into harms way. Not to mention the political ramifications of our insolence. What, really, can we do?
Here I am, sitting on the couch while little man naps worrying about my long to do list atop the pile of paperwork I need to read, file, fill out, etc. On the other side of the world, mothers fear for their lives and the lives of their babies. (Syria, of course, is not the only nation where such atrocities are currently happening, but it is at the forefront of the news right now and it is weighing heavily on my mind.)
Little man nursed before his afternoon nap today and fell asleep in my arms. I had one of those rare opportunities to just sit and watch him breathe that the mother of a toddler seldom gets. I thought of the baby that Marie witnessed passing and whispered "thank you" to the powers that be. I kissed him. I snuggled him. I savored his sweetness. I tried not to cry.
Today I am grateful for my First World problems. I am safe in my home. I am safe in my neighborhood. I am safe in my country. It is an easy thing to take for granted, but on this day I will not.
I appreciate and honor the work of journalists and photographers that risk their lives to make sure the plight of human suffering and injustice is seen by a world so quick to turn a blind eye to its uncomfortable ugliness. Their courage, bravery and passion is extraordinary and I acknowledge the passionate souls that have been lost.
I am thankful for my little man's life. He is healthy. He is happy. He is strong. I give thanks for every breath that he takes. I am so blessed to be responsible for his survival and safety. And, I am reminded of how fortunate I am not to live in fear of violence or bloodshed.
The world is mad. But, I from where I sit I would never know. Though I could pretend not to see, I will not. Instead, I will give thanks for what I have and how I live and raise a few prayers for those not as fortunate as I.
May angels guide you to your rest Marie. Because of you, the world is watching.