We’ll never know

Most of us will never know. Most of us wake up in the morning, take a hot shower, brush our teeth, shave, gulp down a hot cup of coffee, munch on a cereal item, hop in the car, and head to work or school. That’s if we’re not retired, when we can eliminate the hopping into the car part.

We go through our day, eat a lunch, complete our required daily tasks, head home, have dinner (or supper if you prefer), relax, hit the sack and get ready for another day.

Yet for more than 50 million of our brothers and sisters, that’s not even a dream. It may have been a similar lifestyle in another day and time, but not now.

For still others, the daily routine was far less comfortable and stable, but it was a million times better than it is now.

For the first time since World War II, this big blue marble we call earth has more than 50 million refugees who can’t think about tomorrow — because it may never come.

I don’t know if anyone can fathom what 50 million human beings is, but it would be like forcing the entire populations of California and New York State to leave home with only the clothes on their backs and whatever they could carry — on foot.

The photo I’ve included below is one of the saddest I’ve ever seen. These young Iraqi children, no different than any of our own, were being instructed and prepared to receive the Body of our Savior, Jesus Christ for the first time in Holy Communion. They never did. Islamic terrorists forced these young Christians and their families to flee their homes to God knows where.

view communion.gif

It happens every day in the Middle East, in Africa, in Myanmar, in South America, in the Ukraine, and even in the U.S.

The reasons are many: religious prejudice, greed, power, drugs, human trafficking, hatred, and fear.

These people don’t dream of a summer vacation. They dream of a crust of bread and a drink of fresh water. They don’t go school shopping for their pups, they watch them starve to death or die from a plethora of diseases, illnesses, or wounds from bombs and bullets.

I didn’t plan on writing about these tragic brothers and sisters this week — until I saw the photo below. I’ve read the stories and saw the pictures before, but it was knowing these young boys and girls never got to receive First Communion that touched a raw nerve. 

Maybe I’ve become too complacent about seeing and hearing about millions of refugees. Seeing things I probably will never experience. Maybe we all have. I’m sorry if I have.

I have to do more for them — financially and Spiritually; spend a bit more time on my knees and a little less time on my recliner. For my brothers and sisters with nowhere to go.

Dave Jolivet can be contacted at davejolivet@anchornews.org.

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