Do you have a 5 year old? I have a 5 year old. One of the most precocious, smart and hilarious kids ever. I love this stage (well, I love every stage for different reasons, but I can say that. I’m a mom. *wink*). 5 years can shape a lot of things about a person, big or small. For some of us, that’s good. And others… Well, let me tell you their story.
Immersing ourselves in history-filled Vienna, Austria has brought some amazing cultural perspective to our daily grind. Just stepping outside our door, we’re immediately faced with incredible sculpted architecture and rich aromas of street vendors and local shops–the strangely calming, low screech of precisely-timed trains pulling into their stops close by, and happy chatter of passers-by all around.
But then there’s another world, very near, and yet so far removed from our culture and way of thinking. Instead of gorgeous cathedrals and palaces, they have haphazard tents, makeshift mattresses (or none at all), and harsh exposure to the elements. Instead of sweet smells of fresh bread and bratwurst and pastries, they have growling pits in their grossly extended, malnourished bellies. Instead of enjoying the sounds of a well-functioning, happy society, they are constantly listening with fear for the next raid that may force them (yet again) from the place they sleep–not home, this could never be termed “home.”
This is South Sudan.
South Sudan just turned 5 years old.
South Sudan began its history with a surge of hope, but this hope has since has turned to despair. Children born into South Sudan in these five years have no memory of anything but war and fear.
Take this little girl for example.
Imagine she was your 5-year-old. Can you? How would you feel?
If for no other reason than to hold up another struggling mama, read more about these families. Give as little or as much as you feel for them.
I know I would want someone to do that for me.
What one word would you use to describe your 5-year-old’s childhood?
5 years of ____?
I hope it has been five years of joy, five years of love, five years of giggles, five years of mischief, even–not five years of fear, or sadness, or hunger–like these sweet children; no different inside than our own sons and daughters.
Don’t open your wallet. Open your heart.