What I Might Say

When this morning came and the sun began peeking thru the trees in the east and the birds began singing in the trees, I woke with a knot in my stomach and a feeling of anguish in my heart from the last many days. I sat up on the edge of the bed, my head hung in numb sadness, trying to decide what to do next.

This pit in my stomach, this feeling of anguish, this low hanging head is nothing.

After all, the sun was peeking into our home as another day dawned. And a roof was over our heads. And Ben was fast asleep (as he undoubtedly will be for some time to come) in his bed.

No, the pit and the anguish and the sadness and shame are nothing next to what the refugees have been thru and what they have (what they don't have) to look forward to.

So I don't mind the pit, and I can deal with the anguish, but I think I'm going to stay away from this computer for the rest of the day, because these emotions keep morphing into anger, and I just don't know what I might say.

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