Desperately Praying

I hung up with the third office worker I had talked to that morning and let out a big sigh.  I had just talked to Michigan senators’ offices as well as my district representative’s office.  I had rarely called my political representatives before 2017.  Now, all three numbers were in my phone contacts.  There is now a lot be concerned about.

I decided to call my Dad next, and as I spoke with him about my frustrations, I began fighting back tears.  The situation at the border seems hopeless.  So many families, children, being kept in “detention” centers.  Their crime?  Seeking a life of freedom from cartels and their violence.  Seeking a democratic government.  Seeking the ability to live and work and raise their children in peace.

Instead, they are imprisoned.  Many separated from their children.  Some children, lost.  Reports of physical and sexual abuse of children, starvation, neglect, it’s all too much for me.  I lie in bed awake at night and feel so powerless.  I want to help.  But I cannot.  So, I pray, and I cry, and I try to inform people through Facebook. But at the end of the day, I worry.  What damage are we doing to these poor babies?  What future monsters are we creating through our cruelty and indifference?  Why are politicians on both sides of the aisle sitting idly by and allowing this to happen? 

God, please help the immigrants.  Especially the babies.